Vader's Valkyrie
by Adam Kalik
Summary: A Return of the Jedi AU wherein Darth Vader plots to destroy the Emperor, with Luke Skywalker by his side. Vader's plan bears a passing resemblance to the July, 1944 plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler (hence the title). Dedicated to my friend, Lenny, who has been inspiring me to write Star Wars stories since we were both little kids.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

To an observer in space, the planet Cotellier looked like many of the other barren desert worlds that dotted the Outer Rim. There were no visible bodies of water, which made the rust-colored surface appear quite dull, and the far side of the planet was devoid of the mottling of artificial light that would indicate any advanced settlement. The planet's only cosmetic appeal came from its moon, which was emerald-green and encircled by icy rings that brightly reflected the light of the nearby sun. The distinct contrast between the planet and its moon, coupled with the massive dust storms that slowly billowed across Cotellier's surface, offered astronomers in the nearby Utapau system a mildly interesting view, but there was nothing about the planet that would entice a landing.

Because Cotellier, on the star maps which actually documented its location, was invariably listed as desolate and inhospitable, it had ended up on the Empire's list of worlds which could potentially host a Rebel base. The Empire had launched thousands of probe droids to survey each world on that list, and while the droid surveying Cotellier found no hint of the Rebel Alliance, it did locate valuable ore deposits in the planet's crust. This discovery had proven almost as valuable as the location of the Rebel base itself, for the Empire's subsequent mining operations had accelerated the construction of the most powerful battle station in the history of the galaxy: the second Death Star.

Hundreds of kilometers above Cotellier's atmosphere, a _Lambda_-class shuttle emerged from the docking bay of the Imperial Star Destroyer _Avenger_ and began its descent towards the surface of the planet. Aboard the shuttle, a nervous Imperial colonel named Dyer clutched his harness and shifted in his bucket seat. He always felt a twinge of nausea on the ride down, though he would never admit it. A great number of promotional opportunities for Imperial officers disappeared if a candidate was suspected of any kind of softness or infirmity. Colonel Dyer fought to suppress the queasy feeling, and feigned a stern demeanor as he glanced up at the crew.

"Colonel?" the pilot called. "We're clear of the docking bay, sir. Ten minutes to landing."

Dyer nodded and replied, "Copy," with all the command presence he could muster. To take his mind off his stomach, he mentally rehearsed the assignment Moff Jerjerrod had given him. All he had to do was deliver yet another list of scheduling changes and supply requisitions to the commander of the Cotellier mining complex, Nahdonnis Praji. After doing his best to justify the delays without voicing any criticism of the Emperor, Dyer would oversee the transfer of the materiel Jerjerrod coveted, and return to his duties on the forest moon of Endor. It was a relatively simple assignment—in fact, it could have been done via hologram—but security protocols required him to relay the orders in person. Considering what had happened to the first Death Star, he couldn't say he was surprised.

Dyer thought of his imminent meeting with Commander Praji, and tried to convince himself that it would go smoothly. It was never easy to report delays, but Dyer remembered that Praji was a pushover, a soft target with no political clout. Praji's reputation had been irreversibly tarnished after his failure to recover the stolen plans to the first Death Star, and the subsequent ISB investigation had nearly ended his career as an officer. As he thought about it, Dyer realized Praji was lucky to have been permanently re-assigned to this miserable ball of dirt. Few others had failed Darth Vader and lived to tell the tale.  
Dyer allowed himself a guilty smirk as he measured his own career against Praji's. Just as he did so, however, the shuttle bounced and shook, and he felt his stomach lurch. Dyer leaned forward so he could see out through the cockpit window, and saw that the shuttle was passing through a massive atmospheric storm. Dyer fought to keep his composure as the shuttle descended through the swirling red haze.

"Sorry about the turbulence, sir," the co-pilot called out. "Less than one minute to touchdown." Dyer grimaced and swallowed his saliva, which had suddenly turned sour. He remained determined to step off the shuttle with his last meal still in his stomach.

Dyer found himself counting by seconds as the shuttle touched down on the landing platform. _Finally_, Dyer thought as he unbuckled his harness. He practically leapt out of his bucket seat, and put his hand against the bulkhead for support. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, and glanced into the cockpit cautiously to see if any of the crew had noticed his eagerness to get off the shuttle. They paid him no mind as they attended to their duties, chattering to flight control and flipping switches with the precision of new droids.

Dyer heard the sharp hiss of pressurized gas as the boarding ramp lowered. He made his way down the ramp while it was still moving, and felt tears well up in his eyes as the wind and dust rushed in. He winced as he pushed his way forward, holding his visor cap on with one hand to keep from losing it. He finally felt his boot land on the platform, and the world seemed to right itself. His nausea faded away as his brain processed the fact that he was on level ground.

Dyer hurried to the turbolift at the edge of the platform, bending his knees and leaning forward at the waist to brace himself against the howling gale. As he crossed the platform, he noticed a second _Lambda_-class shuttle docked next to his own, and briefly wondered what other officer was unlucky enough to have been dispatched here on some trivial errand. He was only able to glimpse the shuttle for a moment, however, before the wind forced him to avert his gaze. When Dyer reached the turbolift, he breathed a sigh of relief and blinked the dirt out of his eyes as the doors shut behind him. He took a moment to straighten his uniform and dust himself off as the turbolift took him down into the headquarters building.

After only a few seconds, the turbolift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing a metallic gray reception area, utterly devoid of artwork or any other interesting features. At the far end of the room, Dyer saw a protocol droid standing quietly behind a plain gray reception desk. Beyond the desk was a set of intimidating blast doors that led directly to Commander Praji's office. Dyer strode across the lobby confidently, ignoring the droid behind the desk. The droid registered the rank insignia on his chest, and made no attempt at conversation.

Colonel Dyer smirked as he realized why this routine seemed so familiar to him. This room looked almost identical to his workstation back on the Death Star, which also happened to look like every other room designed by the Empire: plain, industrial, and boring. The only thing that set this particular room apart was a thick transparisteel window along the wall to his right, which offered a view and a source of natural light. As Dyer walked past the window, he could hear the dull whirring and buzzing of heavy machinery from the other side. He looked out over the mining camp without breaking his stride, and noticed the storm appeared to be dying down. Now that the dust had begun to settle, he could see the true nature of the Empire's mining operation.

Like every Imperial hard labor camp, this facility was built like a prison complex, surrounded by thick duracrete walls topped with concertina wire. Guard towers had been built at regular intervals along the top of the wall, each topped with a turbolaser turret. The turrets were deliberately pointed down toward the interior of the camp, as a constant reminder to every forced laborer that the Empire held the power of life and death over them. The prisoner barracks were lined up in a neat grid, entirely within the traverse of the turrets. In the center of it all was a massive pit, bored deep into the earth like a sinkhole, its outer edge threaded by a great clockwise spiral path. Dyer could see swarms of tiny humanoid figures scurrying back and forth along the path of the spiral. Here, the prisoners toiled day and night, working under conditions that had been deemed far too hazardous for paid workers. Here, they mined raw materials for the second Death Star.

Unwilling to dwell on the sight of the camp for long, Dyer averted his eyes and continued on to Commander Praji's office. He stopped in front of the blast doors and took a moment to verify that he looked presentable. He realized he wouldn't be able to get all the dust off himself and sighed. _Let's just get this over with_, he thought as the doors slid open. He stepped into Praji's office, and stopped in his tracks. Just a few meters in front of him stood a towering figure, clad from head to toe in black armor, with a polished helmet that gleamed in the artificial light. Dyer's eyes widened and his heart rate surged as he realized who the second shuttle on the platform belonged to: Darth Vader.

Dyer's mouth hung open as he found himself unable to speak; his mind was racing too quickly to form a coherent sentence. He managed to catch himself before his forward momentum caused him to stumble, and stood completely still just as the doors slid shut behind him. Vader hadn't even acknowledged him. At that moment, the Sith Lord was turned away, deep in conversation with Commander Praji. Praji glanced at Dyer only briefly, then returned his gaze upward, looking into the eyes of Vader's mask.

"Yes, my Lord, we are behind schedule," Praji said flatly, apparently continuing the conversation that had been taking place just before Dyer entered the room. "Moff Jerjerrod provided us with a modified itinerary and requisitioned nearly all of our binary loadlifters two weeks ago. I've substituted hundreds of prisoners, but the attrition rate is extremely high. As a result, our operations have fallen behind."

"I am not concerned with your prisoners," Vader growled. "My only concern is the timely completion of the Death Star...and I did not approve any modifications to the construction schedule."

"Forgive me, my Lord, " Praji replied, attempting to distance himself from the controversy. "I assumed Moff Jerjerrod had informed you in advance of the adjustments he made." Praji glanced over at Dyer again, and the hairs on the back of Dyer's neck stood up as he anticipated Praji's next words.

"I see Colonel Dyer has arrived with new orders from Endor. Perhaps he could describe the situation in more detail," Praji finished smugly.

By this time, Dyer's heart was pounding in his chest. Before he could think of a way to extricate himself from the room, Darth Vader turned and faced him.

"Colonel," Vader began, his voice resonating in Dyer's bones. "I will give you one chance to explain your commander's malfeasance. Know that if you choose to defend his actions, you will test the limits of my patience."

Dyer struggled to maintain his composure as he realized his simple assignment had turned into a death sentence. He tried to think of something worthwhile to say, but his mind was racing. As the silence went on, Vader placed his hands on his hips, and Dyer knew his time was up. He desperately blurted out the first thing that came to mind: the truth.

"My Lord, our original itinerary required us to prioritize the completion of the primary weapon system above all else," he stammered. Still unable to think, he parroted one of Moff Jerjerrod's most frequent complaints. "The Emperor demands that the station be fully armed and operational, while there are gaps in the superstructure large enough for a spice freighter to maneuver! Delays were inevitable, my Lord. We...we simply didn't have the manpower."

Dyer immediately regretted what he had just said, but it was too late to take it back. This was not going as he had planned at all. Vader remained exactly where he stood, distinguishable from a statue only by his mechanical breathing. Dyer felt as though his knees might give out at any moment. He clenched his fists to keep his hands from trembling, and struggled to keep from fainting. _This is it_, he thought, _I'm a dead man. Vader is going to clench his fist, call on that ancient magic of his, and suffocate me to death_. Finally, Vader's voice broke the silence once more.

"Commander Praji," he bellowed, turning and pointing directly at Praji's chest. "You have one day to correct the deficiencies of this camp. Fail, and you will be placed among the general population. I have no doubt they admire you enough to keep you alive as long as possible."

"Yes, my Lord," Praji replied.

"As for you," Vader continued, turning back to Colonel Dyer, "You will remain here to assist the commander, and you will share his punishment if he fails. I will return to Moff Jerjerrod in your place, so we can discuss the importance of adhering to our existing schedule. If he is notified of my approach before I reach the Endor system, I will hold you personally responsible."

"Thank you, my Lord!" Dyer gasped, silently thanking the Maker for allowing him to survive what so many others had not. Vader stepped forward without saying another word, and Dyer frantically sidestepped to avoid standing in his path. The blast doors automatically slid open, and Vader marched out, his black cape flowing around him. Dyer stepped back even further, too superstitious to let even the hem of the cape touch him. When the doors slid closed again, Dyer breathed a heavy sigh of relief and blinked back tears. He couldn't believe his luck. He had just crossed Darth Vader and lived.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As soon as he left Commander Praji's office, Vader found himself in a rare state of calm. In the not-too-distant past, he would have used the Force to seize both Dyer and Praji by the throat, and let them expire on the deck. Today, however, he felt his days of killing on a whim were over. While he would not hesitate to bring the full power of the Force to bear against any who challenged him, he felt there was only one left who truly deserved to die at his hands.

Vader wasted no time boarding his shuttle, leaving Colonel Dyer's flight crew awestruck as he passed. Vader's crew had his shuttle in the air in a matter of seconds, and they quickly made their ascent through Cotellier's atmosphere and toward the Star Destroyer _Avenger_. Except for the Dark Lord's mechanical breathing, the cabin was silent as the shuttle rose. His crew had been handpicked for their combat experience and calm under fire, and they knew not to engage their master in conversation.

As soon Vader's shuttle reached the _Avenger_, he stepped out, crossed the docking bay, and strode directly to his private quarters—required on every command ship by Imperial Navy regulations. Every crew member he passed went to great lengths to avert their eyes, and suddenly quickened their pace as though they had just remembered an urgent task they had to complete somewhere else. He was pleased to see that his reputation was still intact, in spite of his occasional act of leniency.

When Vader reached his quarters, he only had to devote the slightest effort to reach out with the Force and confirm what he had expected all along. The room had not been touched since the last time he was aboard the _Avenger_, except to be serviced by cleaning droids. There were still a few naïve officers who privately scoffed at his "sorcerer's ways," but no crew member would be foolish enough to enter the room without his permission. In truth, it didn't make much difference. The one item that concerned him—the weapon that would be crucial to his success in the days ahead—was safely hidden aboard his personal flagship, the Super Star Destroyer _Executor_.

Vader stepped into his quarters, and marched across the room as the blast doors hissed closed behind him. A screen on the far wall flickered to life, displaying the image of the _Avenger's _captain—an older, white-haired man who had served as first officer under the late Captain Needa. Vader had never bothered to learn his name.

"Lord Vader, I was just notified of your arrival. Of course, it is an honor to have you aboard," the captain began. "Shall we return to the Endor system, as planned?"

"Immediately," Vader confirmed, "And you will tell no one I am aboard until we reach the Death Star."

"Yes, my Lord," the captain replied, and the screen went dark.

Confident that there would be no further interruptions, Vader unfastened the chain that held his cape in place. He pulled it off of his shoulders with one smooth motion, and gestured with his hand toward a custom-built storage vault in the corner of the room. The towering doors of the vault swung open, and for a moment, he felt as if he was looking into a mirror. He wasn't, of course—he kept no mirrors in his possession, as he had no desire to be reminded of what he had become. In reality, he was looking at a perfect copy of the armor he was already wearing, propped up inside the vault like a museum display. The helmet, mask, pressurized suit, and every other piece of equipment he wore was meticulously arranged so that he could quickly replace any component that malfunctioned or was damaged in battle. There were only two items that had not been duplicated: the lightsaber on his belt, and the cape in his hand. These were not medical necessities, of course, but symbols of his status as a Dark Lord of the Sith, and reminders of his place beneath the Emperor. Vader held the cape in his hand for just a moment, reflecting on the day it had first been given to him, and quickly secured it in its place. He stepped away from his vault, and the doors closed behind him.

Vader turned his attention to the center of the room, where a massive hyperbaric chamber, over three meters wide, registered his presence. As lights and computer displays flashed to life, the top hemisphere of the chamber retracted into the ceiling so he could step inside. He took his seat inside the pod, relaxing what was left of his true body while an array of intricate machines examined his artificial limbs and life support systems. The machines deadened his artificial nerves in one area at a time, so his body could be maintained without causing him the sensation of pain. He waited patiently for the fluid reservoirs in his torso to be emptied and refilled, his blood dialyzed, and his mechanical joints recalibrated. When this routine was complete, he felt the approximation of life in his nerve endings again. He toggled the control panel at his fingertips, and the top hemisphere of the chamber closed around him, forming an airtight seal. Vader tapped at the panel again, and the machines gently gripped his helmet and lifted it away.

Vader blinked in the darkness as he felt the cold air wash over his scarred head and face. He attempted a short, shallow breath, and the machines matched his effort, responding perfectly to his nerve signals to allow him a modicum of control over his breathing. He began breathing as if on his own, focusing on the anger that welled up inside him as he recognized his "control" was only an illusion. He knew he could not breathe at all without the machines that surrounded him, and he had long since abandoned any hope of being free of them.

As Vader thought of freedom, his mind wandered to the same dark places it always did. For decades, he had longed for the exonerating power of death, and as he had done countless times before, he wondered how he could ever die on his own terms. He wondered if it was truly his destiny to die quietly, just slipping away someday as what remained of his body inevitably gave out. This thought had occurred to him before, and as always, he felt the same burning hatred for himself and what he had become. He hated the idea of being remembered as a crippled cyborg with a mask instead of a face. He refused to accept that as his fate. But regardless of how he died, he knew his legacy would be one of death, a mountain of corpses and agony and suffering. It was far too late to change that. _If that is to be_, Vader thought, _I will dictate the terms of my own end_. He was determined to crown that mountain with one last carcass—the one man left alive who deserved to be slain more than any other. His blood boiled as he channeled all of his seething hatred toward the decrepit husk of a man he called "master."

In his mind's eye, Vader saw the face of Emperor Palpatine: wrinkled, pale skin stretched over knobby flesh, a pair of cold, yellow eyes, a bitter scowl transformed into a grin by the misery of others. It was a face that had haunted Vader ever since it bound him in his life-sustaining mask and armor. He thought of his previous life, a time when he had admired Palpatine, and his desire to do violence grew even stronger. He found himself breathing heavily, and he felt his mechanical body supplying him with adrenaline, as it always did when it detected his primal urge to fight. He slowed his breathing and focused on returning to his previous, calm state. He knew his plan to destroy the Emperor could not succeed unless he kept his mind clear.

Vader had conditioned himself to keep his true feelings toward the Emperor deeply, imperceptibly hidden, buried in his mind for decades. He knew his master could kill him effortlessly, and would do so without a shred of remorse if he ever allowed his hatred to surface at the wrong time. Thus, he vented his rage only in total isolation, and plotted the death of Emperor Palpatine only when the man himself was thousands of light-years away.

Vader reflected on his new plan to destroy the Emperor, a plan that had been taking shape in his mind over the course of the past year. All of his earlier ideas had been dismissed with silent frustration, as he knew he would fail if he ever attempted to usurp the throne by himself. But one year ago, Vader had an encounter that changed his life—an encounter that showed him he would not have to act alone. On that fateful day, he had experienced his last true test of swordsmanship, at the Tibanna refinery colloquially known as "Cloud City." There, he had faced the one soul powerful enough to help him destroy Emperor Palpatine: his son, Luke Skywalker.

As soon as he began fighting his son, Vader could sense how strongly the Force flowed through him. Where he had expected an easy victory, he found tenacity, skill, and a pleasantly surprising amount of aggression. It was true that he had begun the duel using one hand, and Luke had left it without one, but the boy held promise. Vader knew if he could expose Luke to the true nature of the Force, they could use their combined strength to eliminate Emperor Palpatine and reshape the galaxy forever. The only thing left to do—the only thing left in his life that truly mattered—was to convince his son to join him. Then, with the Emperor gone, they could bring order to a galaxy fractured by war.

Vader smiled in the darkness of his hyperbaric chamber, assured that with his son by his side, his plan would succeed. With the knowledge that Emperor Palpatine was dead, Vader knew that he, too, could finally be content. As he relaxed himself with the dream of dying at peace, a dream he had nearly given up, he allowed the power of the dark side of the Force to wash over him. He felt it numb his mind like a drug, and used it to broadcast his voice across the galaxy, calling out with a voice only his son could hear.

"Luke..." he called. "Luke..."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The desert world of Tatooine was well-known for its scorching hot days and frigid nights. Over the years, the locals had learned to build houses with thick clay walls, digging deep into the earth wherever possible, to insulate themselves from both extremes. One such house sat on the edge of the Jundland Wastes, reliably shielding its sole occupant from the chill of night. This house had once belonged to an eccentric old man, known to the locals as Ben Kenobi. Now, it belonged to his former student—an aspiring Jedi Knight named Luke Skywalker.

As the sky began to brighten with the approach of dawn, the anguished cry of a womp rat pierced the air. Somewhere, a lucky predator had secured an early breakfast. Inside the clay hut, Luke startled awake, not because of the faint shriek from outside, but because he felt a disturbance in the Force. Something was not right. Luke shuddered as he realized the source of his uneasiness. Deep in his subconscious mind, he felt the voice of Darth Vader calling to him. "Luke..." the voice rumbled. "Luke..."

Luke cast his roughspun blanket aside and sat upright. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, recalling the meditation techniques Master Yoda had taught him. As he emptied his mind and welcomed the harmonious presence of the light side of the Force, he noticed Vader's voice gradually becoming more faint. After several minutes, Luke allowed himself to open his eyes and relax. The voice was gone...for now.

Luke swung his feet out over the edge of his bed and stood. The inlaid stone floor was refreshingly cool, and he relaxed more with each step as he crossed the room to Obi-Wan Kenobi's old footlocker. Luke opened the footlocker and removed the holoprojector unit that he had used as a reference for the past year. _Might as well finish it now_, Luke thought. Even though his mind was relaxed, he knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep. Besides, the sooner he completed this rite of passage, the sooner he could truly call himself a Jedi.

Luke toggled a tiny switch on the side of the holoprojector, and a bright blue cone of light flickered before his eyes. The light quickly came into focus, displaying a static three-dimensional image. The image was one that the Empire had scrubbed from every known databank in the galaxy: a detailed schematic of a lightsaber. Luke toggled the holoprojector again, reviewing the still images Ben had left behind for him. He paused when he reached the image he needed, that of an exploded view of the lightsaber crystal housing. Luke set the holoprojector on an end table and reached into the footlocker again. This time, he withdrew his own work in progress, a nearly completed lightsaber. It was almost identical to the one Obi-Wan had carried until the day he died, but there was one crucial step that required Luke's full concentration.

Luke knew what he was about to do required the utmost focus and patience. He did as Yoda had instructed, and silenced all conscious thought. As he tapped into the Force, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. He focused his mind on a tiny carved box nestled inside the footlocker, and used the Force to open the lid. Inside was a small, green crystal, perfectly shaped to fit inside the hilt of a lightsaber. He knew from Ben's instructions that he could not touch it, as it had to be put in place with the Force alone. He lifted the crystal into the air using the Force, moving it with his mind until it hovered directly in front of him.

Luke turned his palms toward the ceiling, channeling the Force with the gesture. Luke's incomplete lightsaber hilt rose into the air, becoming perfectly still as it reached the exact level of the crystal. Luke watched as the lightsaber hilt closed around the crystal, and sighed with satisfaction as the components sealed themselves together. Only when he sensed the power of the crystal emanating through the entire hilt did he dare to extend his hand and pluck the finished lightsaber out of the air. _Here goes nothing_, Luke thought as he thumbed the ignition switch.

A brilliant green blade crackled to life, casting an eerie glow over the clay walls of the house. Luke smiled as his eyes adjusted to the light. He felt conscious thought return to his mind as pride washed over him. He had just completed one of the most hallowed Jedi rituals, and at last he felt ready to walk in the footsteps of his old master.

Luke switched his lightsaber off and stepped outside. He looked out over the horizon, cherishing the last bit of fresh night air as Tatooine's twin suns began peeking over the mountains. He recalled the last time he had stood and admired those suns. It felt like a lifetime ago, before he joined the Rebellion. Before Imperial stormtroopers had slain his Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. The Empire had been searching for two seemingly insignificant droids: a skittish, gold-colored protocol droid named C-3PO, and a stubborn, blue astromech droid named R2-D2. Luke felt a bitter combination of anger and sorrow as he remembered speeding back to the homestead that day, knowing in the back of his mind that it was already too late. Innocent lives had been destroyed, bodies burned, all for two droids. Luke flushed the anger out of his mind, and replaced it with the hope of future victories. If everything went according to plan, those same two droids would now be instrumental to the rescue of one of the most valuable leaders of the Rebel Alliance. _If_, Luke thought, as he tore himself away from the horizon and stepped back into the house.

"Artoo?" he called. "Threepio?"

At the sound of his voice, the droids awakened from their powered-down state. R2-D2's display lights flickered on, and the droid's dome-shaped head spun towards Luke, beeping in the affirmative. C-3PO shuffled out of the kitchen area, his photoreceptors glowing with a soft yellow light.

"Yes, Master Luke?" C-3PO asked.

"It's time to go," Luke replied. He looked down at the lightsaber he was still clutching in his hand, and clipped it to his belt. He donned his cloak, a simple garment designed to breathe in the harsh desert climate, and prepared to step back outside.

"Master Luke?" called C-3PO, waving his hand as if he did not already have Luke's attention. "Shall I prepare some breakfast before we leave?"

Upon hearing this, R2-D2 emitted a short buzzing noise, in much the same way a person would snort or chuckle, and Luke smirked as he wondered how much the droids would banter during their journey.

"Not today," Luke answered. "Let's head out before it gets too hot."

The journey was relatively quiet for the trio, since there was little to talk about as they trudged across the desert. Luke stayed alert, reaching out with the Force so he could sense danger from afar. The only presence he felt was a Jawa sandcrawler, but he sensed that it was too far away to detect him or the droids, and the Jawas aboard were preoccupied with thoughts of rehydrating at the distant Pika Oasis. He continued on, certain that they would not need to change course for such a minimal threat.

Tatooine's suns were high overhead by the time Luke and the droids caught sight of the tallest spire of Jabba the Hutt's palace, just beyond the foothills of the Great Mesra Plateau. Luke was relieved that they had not crossed paths with any Jawa scavengers, or worse, Sand People. He stopped, confident that the droids would not need him to escort them any further.

"This is as far as I'm going today," Luke declared. "You two go on ahead. Just remember what I told you."

"Of course, Master Luke," C-3PO responded faithfully. He turned to his astromech counterpart. "Remember, Artoo, we are to play Master Luke's message to none other than Jabba himself."

R2-D2 replied with a series of noises that was unmistakeably sarcastic. C-3PO shuffled onward, and R2-D2 started rolling after him.

"Artoo?" Luke called.

The little droid stopped, and rotated his domed head to face Luke. R2-D2 chirped inquisitively. Luke reached into his cloak and drew his lightsaber from his belt. Holding it out and speaking in a low voice so C-3PO would not overhear, he said, "I need you to hide this until I get there."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

By late afternoon, C-3PO and R2-D2 were finally within sight of the main entrance to Jabba's palace. R2-D2 beeped a short query to his humanoid counterpart.

"Of course I'm worried," C-3PO replied, "And you should be, too. Lando Calrissian and poor Chewbacca never returned from this awful place."

R2-D2 responded with another series of coded beeps and whistles.

"Don't be so sure," C-3PO continued. "If I told you half the things I've heard about this Jabba the Hutt, you'd probably short-circuit."

R2-D2's only reply was a sarcastic wail, followed by another upbeat whistle. The droids continued on their way, eventually reaching a massive entry gate set into a great stone arch. The gate was originally built by ancient B'omarr monks as a way to cut themselves off from any outside stimuli. Now that the old monastery belonged to Jabba and his cartel, however, the gate served as an imposing barrier to keep outsiders from getting in. C-3PO nervously shuffled up to the gate.

"Artoo, are you sure this is the right place?" he asked. R2-D2 replied in the affirmative.

"I'd better knock, I suppose," C-3PO wondered aloud. He tapped lightly on the durasteel surface, then immediately turned to R2-D2 and said, "There doesn't seem to be anyone here. Let's go back and tell Master Luke."

Just then, a tiny porthole in the gate flipped open, and a stalk-shaped gatekeeper droid emerged. The droid consisted of a tiny sphere at the end of a long, jointed arm, which extended out of the gate towards C-3PO. The sphere's metal coverings clicked open like eyelids, revealing a glowing, pulsating sensor array. The droid chattered at C-3PO in Huttese.

"Goodness gracious me!" C-3PO exclaimed. He was startled by the gatekeeper droid's sudden appearance, but he quickly regained his composure and replied to the droid in Huttese. The droid chortled and retracted back into the gate, the porthole snapping shut behind it.

"I don't think they're going to let us in, Artoo," C-3PO said indignantly. "We'd better go."

Just as he said this, the rumbling of heavy machinery could be heard from inside the palace, and the gate was lifted. The components squealed loudly as they moved, showing clear signs of poor maintenance, but the droids' path was clear. R2-D2 rolled into the palace as soon as he had enough clearance to pass beneath the rising gate.

"Artoo! Wait!" C-3PO called, hurrying to catch up to the fearless astromech droid. "Oh, dear," he continued. "Artoo! Artoo, I really don't think we should rush into all this!"

R2-D2 continued on, determined to follow his master's instructions. As C-3PO wavered near the entrance, a hideous, spider-like perimeter droid emerged from the shadows, clambering toward C-3PO on six spindly legs. C-3PO reacted with horror as he noticed a transparent spherical jar mounted to the droid's underbelly. An oily brown fluid sloshed back and forth inside the sphere as the droid moved. In the center of the jar, suspended in the murky liquid, was what appeared to be a human brain.

"Oh, Artoo!" C-3PO called out, mortified. "Artoo, wait for me!"

R2-D2 rotated his dome-shaped head to respond to the cowardly protocol droid, but continued to roll forward without slowing. With his sensors turned away from his path, the droid inadvertently bumped into one of Jabba's Gamorrean guards. The green-skinned, porcine alien snarled and bent forward to bare its tusks at the tiny astromech. R2-D2 quickly retreated and beeped a short apology. The Gamorrean growled menacingly, drool running down its wide lips as it challenged the droid.

"Just you deliver Master Luke's message and get us out of here!" C-3PO cried as he finally caught up to R2-D2. By then, another Gamorrean guard had responded to the commotion and approached from behind, cutting off the droids' retreat.

"Oh, my!" C-3PO exclaimed, trying to calculate a way to retreat from both guards. Then, from behind him came the most frightening sound of all: the palace gate slammed shut, leaving them all in darkness. There was no turning back now.

"Oh, no," C-3PO murmured. Before he could decide what to do, a gruff voice called out from a nearby descending staircase. C-3PO turned to look, and saw a pale-skinned, red-eyed Twi'lek gliding toward him.

"Oh, my," C-3PO repeated. The Twi'lek was none other than Jabba the Hutt's majordomo, Bib Fortuna—and no one was admitted to Jabba's presence without his explicit authorization. C-3PO bowed and greeted the Twi'lek in Huttese.

"We—we bring a message to your master, Jabba the Hutt," C-3PO explained. R2-D2 whistled a short clarification. "And a gift," C-3PO translated. He stopped suddenly, realizing what R2-D2 had told him. "Gift? What gift?" he asked. But by then, it was too late. Bib Fortuna had already turned his attention to the astromech droid, demanding to accept both the message and gift personally. R2-D2 rotated his domed head from side to side to indicate refusal.

"He says that our instructions are to give it only to Jabba himself," C-3PO translated. Bib Fortuna recoiled, and his red eyes widened as he glared at both droids. The majordomo was not used to having visitors dictate terms to him, and he was visibly displeased.

"I'm terribly sorry," C-3PO explained. "I'm afraid he's ever so stubborn about these sort of things."

Bib Fortuna barked angrily, and beckoned the droids to follow him.

"Artoo," C-3PO murmured, "I have a bad feeling about this."

The droids followed Bib as he hurried to his master's side. They soon found themselves in a huge, dank room, with barely enough light to see the floor at their feet. The droids' sensors registered a wide variety of foul odors, ranging from food in various stages of freshness, to the odor of smoke and other inhalants, to trace amounts of excrement on the floor. At the far end of the room, upon a raised dais, sat Jabba the Hutt. Like the rest of his species, Jabba was a morbidly obese, slug-like creature whose body had moved very little since reaching adulthood. He was also greedy by nature, possessing an endless appetite for food, wealth, and depravity. As the droids entered, they were lucky enough to find him in a relatively subdued state, his eyelids drooping as a Jawa waved cool air over him with a palm frond. Jabba held a long, thin smoking pipe to the corner of his drool-caked mouth, and studied the droids carefully as they approached him.

"Good morning," C-3PO said, as Bib whispered to Jabba in his native language. Jabba grumbled and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined the droids.

"The message, Artoo, the message," C-3PO hissed.

R2-D2 focused his holoprojector lens in front of the dais, where Jabba could clearly see it, and played the pre-recorded hologram exactly as Luke had instructed. The life-size projection of Luke Skywalker, dressed in black knee-high boots and a form-fitting black tunic, caught the attention of everyone in the audience chamber—as did the lightsaber which was clearly visible on the right side of his belt.

"Greetings, Exalted One," Luke began. Jabba's pupils dilated as he noticed the stranger's Jedi weapon. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend to Captain Solo. I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audience with Your Greatness to bargain for Solo's life."

At this, Jabba erupted with laughter, a sickening noise that sounded almost like a cough. R2-D2 continued playing the message, as Luke had anticipated Jabba's reaction and taken it upon himself to pause briefly while recording it.

"With your wisdom," Luke continued, "I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial, and enable us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation."

At this, Oola, a green-skinned Twi'lek slave girl sitting to Jabba's right, glanced nervously at her master. Her chains clinked lightly as she turned her head, an expression of fear etched upon her face. She knew the short breadth of Jabba's temper, and this mysterious announcer was treading dangerously, even if he was a Jedi.

"As a token of my goodwill," Luke went on, "I present to you a gift: these two droids." "What did he say?" C-3PO asked incredulously, as Luke's hologram gestured toward both droids with his hand. The intent was unmistakeable, but C-3PO couldn't believe what he was hearing. This time, Luke did not pause.

"Both are hard-working, and will serve you well."

With that, the message ended, and Luke's hologram disappeared.

"This can't be!" C-3PO exclaimed. "Artoo, you're playing the wrong message."

Salacious Crumb, a pet Kowakian lizard-monkey which sat at the base of Jabba's massive stomach, cackled with glee. Bib Fortuna leaned over and hissed in Jabba's ear.

"He's no Jedi," Bib said dismissively. Jabba seemed to agree with his servant.

"There will be no bargain," he declared, his deep voice rumbling over the sound of gurgling mucus in the back of his throat.

"We're doomed," C-3PO said quickly.

"I will not give up my favorite decoration," Jabba added, lifting his arm and pointing across the room. Mounds of fat quivered under Jabba's oily skin as he extended his elbow. "I like Captain Solo where he is."

C-3PO turned to look, as did many of Jabba's entourage. Hanging from a wall on the far side of the audience chamber was a thick, gray slab of carbonite, illuminated from above by a bright spotlight. Embedded in the carbonite was Han Solo, a hero of the Rebellion, suspended in perfect hibernation by a Sith Lord who did not care if he survived the freezing process.

"Artoo, look!" C-3PO cried. "Captain Solo! And he's still frozen in carbonite!"

R2-D2 whistled as Jabba and his retinue continued laughing. Salacious Crumb giggled louder than ever, roiling in ecstasy at the droids' plight. Jabba signaled his Gamorrean guards, and they immediately stepped forward and took the droids to be fitted with restraining bolts and given new assignments.

Once his new droids had been removed from his sight, Jabba contemplated the message he had just seen. He knew he had heard the name Luke Skywalker before, but could not place it at the moment. Perhaps he had consumed too many Klatooine paddy frogs that morning. Over the years, he had built up a tolerance to the hallucinogens the frogs secreted through their skins, and he now consumed dozens of them each day to achieve the same feeling of pleasure he had become accustomed to. How many had he eaten that morning? _No matter,_ he thought.

In his relaxed state, Jabba cared little for what some self-proclaimed Jedi had to say. Even so, he had been a cartel boss long enough to know the value of leverage. He knew Skywalker wanted Solo, and reminded himself to guard the frozen slab even more closely to prevent some opportunistic traitor from walking off with it in the dead of night. Loyalty was in short supply these days, and with the Empire cracking down on so many of the traditional smuggling routes, he wouldn't be surprised if Skywalker's message had given one of his lackeys an idea. Even now, he could hear lowered voices chattering in the shadows of his audience chamber. Luke's message had changed the mood, all right. The only one who appeared to be unmoved was Boba Fett, who stood silently in an alcove, scanning the room for threats. Jabba considered using Fett to conduct reconaissance on this Luke Skywalker—where he came from, if he had any family—anything that a gangster could use to his advantage. Authorizing a hit on the man himself might be risky, especially since the mark was skilled enough to get his hands on a lightsaber, but if he had family, a far more graphic and effective message could be sent. _All in good time,_ Jabba thought. If this Jedi pretender showed his face and disrespected Jabba further, he was going to get more than he bargained for.

Jabba found that dwelling on Luke's message was starting to interfere with the serene feeling brought on by the cocktail of drugs coursing through his hardened veins. He lounged on his dais, and reached for the chain which connected Oola to him. He gave the chain a quick snap, and the Twi'lek slave obediently went out onto the dance floor. She performed as she always did, physically flawless but with an expression of sadness that never seemed to fade away. _I'll fix that, _Jabba thought as he began to reel in the chain. He pulled Oola closer, hand over fist, contemplating what he could do to her that would still excite him. Oola noticed the chain grow taut, and felt a surge of terror as she saw the distant expression on Jabba's face. It was one she had seen before, and she knew what awaited her once her body was within Jabba's reach. Today, she could stand it no longer. Overcome with panic, she dug her feet into the dusty floor, and pulled back on the chain. Jabba was much stronger to begin with, and when he felt Oola resist him, the rush of anger and excitement he experienced only added to his advantage. He thought he had broken Oola long ago, but she seemed to have retained just a shred of her independent spirit. At that moment, Jabba knew how he could get one last bit of enjoyment out of her. He had no use for defiant slaves...but he had a pet that was hungry for a meal. Jabba gave the chain one final tug, forcing Oola to skid forward onto the hidden trapdoor in front of his dais. Once Oola was right where he wanted her, Jabba slammed his fist down on the control panel next to him, and the floor dropped out from beneath Oola's feet.

Oola tumbled down the smooth, carved chute beneath the trapdoor, and slid out into a dank, rocky cavern. Once she regained her bearings, she glanced back at the chute, but a metal grate had slammed shut across it to prevent her from attempting to climb out. Oola looked up, and saw Jabba and his guests leering down at her through a ceiling of spiky bars, laughing as they jostled for a better view. She had been enslaved to Jabba long enough to know what awaited her now, and the bone fragments littering the sand at her feet made it even more obvious, but a part of her mind refused to accept it. She struggled in vain to think of a way out of the pit, but she knew there was none.

As Oola rose to her feet, she heard a sound that made her blood run cold. A huge gate at the far end of the cavern, spanning almost the entire distance from floor to ceiling, opened up. The metal squealed and groaned as it retracted into the ceiling. Beyond, lurking in the shadows, she saw the form of a hulking biped, easily five times taller than a grown man. Oola knew what it was even before it stepped out towards her: Jabba's rancor. She let out one last terrified scream, and the rancor drowned her out with a ravenous cry of its own.

Jabba watched with pleasure as his pet gulped down its meal, chain and all. He rarely passed up a chance to watch others satisfy their hunger, even though it often gave him cravings of his own. He reached down into the ornate aquarium by his side, and grabbed another Klatooine paddy frog. He stuffed the creature into his mouth, barely taking any time to savor the taste as he swallowed it whole. Just as he was deciding whether to eat another, there was a sound of blaster fire from the far end of the audience chamber. Jabba uttered a suprised groan, and turned to look at the stairwell. He saw one of his men run up the stairs, chattering excitedly at someone who was just out of sight. A moment later, the man was hurled backward with enough force to take him off his feet. His back slammed against the wall, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

_Finally, _Jabba thought. _Some real excitement._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jabba watched the stairwell closely, intrigued by this new arrival. Two figures entered the chamber: a short bounty hunter dressed in Ubese armor, and a towering biped covered in long, shaggy fur. The bounty hunter, known only as Boushh, had the shuffling biped on a chain, and led it to the center of the room. As the pair stepped into the light, Jabba immediately recognized the bounty. It was Han Solo's first mate, Chewbacca.

"I have come for the bounty on this Wookiee," the Ubese mercenary rasped. The helmet he wore covered his entire head and face, and added a strange, mechanical crackle to his voice. Chewbacca let out a mournful, warbling cry as his captor spoke.

"At last we have the mighty Chewbacca," Jabba growled. Finally, his collection was complete. Perhaps he could find a way to build a cell for the Wookiee opposite Solo's carbonite slab, so they could stare at each other for eternity. It would have to be soundproof, so he could enjoy Chewbacca's agony without having to listen to his bleating. _First things first,_ he thought. He called for his translator droid, and the newly reassigned C-3PO shuffled around the dais to stand before him.

"I am here, Your Worshipfulness!" C-3PO called. "Yes?"

Jabba gave C-3PO his orders in Huttese, and C-3PO dutifully turned and addressed Boushh.

"The illustrious Jabba bids you welcome, and will gladly pay you the reward of 25,000," the droid intoned.

The bounty hunter gave a curt reply in his native tongue. Most of the audience chamber heard only a few syllables, but C-3PO's audioreceptors were designed for inter-species communication, and he detected a simultaneous pitch that was outside the range of normal hearing. C-3PO promptly turned and translated for his new master.

"50,000. No less."

Jabba roared with anger, and struck his new translator in the chest. C-3PO tumbled backward, landing face-first in a puddle of vomit on the floor. As C-3PO struggled to his feet, Boba Fett stepped out of the shadows, keeping a line of sight on Boushh in case negotiations broke down further.

"What did I say?" the droid lamented. Jabba bellowed in Huttese, his massive head and body heaving with anger. C-3PO turned to address Boushh, struggling to maintain a dignified posture with vomit smeared across his head and body.

"The mighty Jabba asks why he must pay 50,000," C-3PO translated.

Boushh gave another short reply in Ubese, and withdrew a small metallic sphere from his utility belt. He rolled back a tiny switch on the surface of the sphere with his thumb, and held it. Tiny diodes on the surface of the sphere lit up, and it began to emit an ominous ticking sound.

"Because he's holding a thermal detonator!" C-3PO screamed, throwing his arms up in surrender.

While everyone else in Jabba's chamber dove for cover, Boba Fett reacted instantly and aggressively. He snapped his carbine up to a contact-ready position, using the targeting system in his helmet to align his muzzle perfectly with the detonator's thumb switch. If he took the shot, he was confident he could obliterate the circuitry guiding the switch without setting off the detonator itself. He waited for Jabba's command to press the trigger, but it never came. Instead, the Hutt laughed.

"This bounty hunter is my kind of scum," Jabba growled, his voice booming through the otherwise quiet chamber. "Fearless, and inventive."

Fett lowered his carbine, silently deactivating his helmet's targeting system. Jabba continued to speak in Huttese, and C-3PO promptly translated.

"Jabba offers a sum of 35," C-3PO said, "and I do suggest you take it!"

Chewbacca looked down at his fearless captor, and groaned inquisitively. Boushh responded in the affirmative, and smoothly rolled the thumb switch forward, rendering the thermal detonator inert.

"He agrees!" C-3PO shouted excitedly, as the bounty hunter secured the device on his utility belt. Without delay, two Gamorrean guards closed in on Chewbacca and took him by the chain. The Wookiee howled in despair as the guards led him to the dungeon. Boushh watched calmly as the music picked up again and Jabba's kitchen staff resumed the endless flow of food, drinks, and illicit substances. Boba Fett nodded approvingly as the surge of adrenaline started to wear off, contemplating whether he should return to the _Slave I_ to eat from the only food supply he trusted. He paid no attention to the dark-skinned guard wearing a mask of gondar tusks that followed Chewbacca to the dungeon. After all, the Gamorreans would need all the help they could get if the Wookiee decided to put up a fight.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The remainder of the evening passed as it always did in Jabba's palace—with raucous entertainment, gambling, and boundless amounts of alcohol and drug consumption. All manner of black market transactions were conducted in the shadows, and there were no consequences...as long as Jabba's cartel got its cut. Meanwhile, Jabba drank, smoked from his pipe, and gorged himself on imported delicacies until he could feel the powerful throbbing of his heart protesting in his chest. After the suns had set, the Max Rebo Band stopped playing, and the ambient noise in the chamber died down. Most of Jabba's retinue fell asleep in their booths or on the floor, indifferent to the dirt and excrement surrounding them. A few retired to private rooms to enjoy the paid company of Jabba's exotic dancers. Jabba himself eventually withdrew from his dais to sleep, retiring to an alcove adjacent to his dais and shutting out the light with a thick, heavy curtain. Jabba's head slumped as he rested, supported only by the enormity of the rest of his body.

Once darkness had fallen over the palace, and the only noise that could be heard was the occasional snore of an unconscious drunk, Boushh crept back into the main audience chamber. He slunk across the chamber as quietly as he could, breathing slowly through his helmet until he reached the slab of carbonite that held Han Solo. Boushh pressed himself against the wall to avoid being seen, and toggled the switch that controlled the wall mount. The slab lowered quickly—_too quickly!_, Boushh thought worriedly—but there was no way to slow it down. The slab dropped to the floor with a loud _slam_. As the wall mount disengaged, the slab fell back against the wall with a second, equally loud noise that reverberated through the chamber. Boushh silently cursed himself. _Too late to turn back now,_ he thought.

Boushh reached up and manipulated the control panel embedded in the side of the slab, deactivating the module that kept the carbonite solidified. He stepped back and scanned his surroundings, detecting no movement. The figure of Han Solo began to glow cherry-red, and beams of white light flickered in all directions as the carbonite melted away. After only a few seconds, most of Han's face and hands were exposed to the air. His fingers curled as he awakened from hibernation, and his lips parted as he drew his first breath in a year. Boushh watched silently as the rest of the carbonite disintegrated and the light faded away. Han's body slumped forward and collapsed on the floor, leaving behind only an empty metal cocoon. He would serve as Jabba's wall ornament no longer.

Boushh knelt next to Han, and gently lifted him until he was sitting upright. Han took several quick breaths, and his eyelids fluttered as he regained consciousness.

"Just relax for a moment," Boushh rasped, speaking Basic. "You're free of the carbonite."

Han rubbed at his eyes, and Boushh attempted to calm him.

"Shh," he said. "You have hibernation sickness."

"I can't see," Han said as he shivered and struggled to prop himself up.

"Your eyesight will return in time," Boushh continued.

"Where am I?" Han asked.

"Jabba's palace," Boushh replied. A moment of panic set in as Han realized he had gone out of the frying pan and into the fire. He reached out with one hand, and brushed against the muzzle of Boushh's helmet.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Boushh raised his gloved hands, and lifted the Ubese helmet away. The face beneath belonged to no bounty hunter, nor a man. It was Princess Leia Organa, and she immediately used her true voice to soothe the man she had feared lost forever.

"Someone who loves you," she answered.

"Leia!" Han gasped. She leaned forward and gave him a passionate kiss, intent on bringing Han back to his senses and getting him to safety. She broke away from their kiss and stood up.

"I gotta get you out of here," she said as she helped Han to his feet.

As Han stood, gently supported by Leia, an awful laugh echoed through the chamber.

"What's that?" Han wondered aloud. Then, a horrible thought struck him. "I know that laugh," he murmured.

The noise grew louder as the curtain that concealed Jabba's bedchamber was flung open. Jabba was wide awake, and surrounded by his lackeys, who joined him in laughter. Jabba's pet, Salacious Crumb, cackled louder than any of them, and slapped the tiny pillow on which he sat. Bib Fortuna leered silently at Han and Leia, menacingly baring his sharp teeth. C-3PO stood behind Jabba, waving his arms helplessly as a Gran criminal named Ree-Yees held a deformed hand over his mouth.

"Hey, Jabba," Han pleaded, orienting himself to the sound of the Hutt's voice. "Look, Jabba, I was just on my way to pay you back, and I got a little sidetracked. It's not my fault!"

"It's too late for that, Solo," Jabba replied coldly. "You may have been a good smuggler, but now you're Bantha fodder."

Salacious Crumb snickered again, feeding off of the insulting tone of his keeper. Several of Jabba's retinue chuckled as well, eagerly anticipating the punishment Jabba would deal out.

"Look—" Han began, extending a trembling hand as he stepped closer to the dais.

"Take him away," Jabba interrupted.

"Jabba—" Han continued, oblivious to the guards closing in from behind him. A Gamorrean named Jubnuk and a dark-skinned human named Fozec approached from either side, preparing to grab Han by the arms and hustle him off to the dungeon. Leia saw them approaching, and knew she had no choice but to act. If she stood still, she and Han would never see the light of day again. She reached under her cloak, and drew her blaster pistol from its concealed holster near the small of her back. She thrust the muzzle of the weapon towards Jabba as she took the slack out of the trigger, determined to blast the crime lord into oblivion. Just then, Jubnuk and Fozec reached her, and wrenched her arm up toward the ceiling. Leia managed to squeeze off a single blaster bolt, but it only struck the ceiling of Jabba's bedchamber, missing him completely. Startled by this new threat, Jabba slammed his fist against his bedside control panel, releasing the trapdoor upon which Leia stood. Leia, Han, Jubnuk, and Fozec all tumbled down as the floor disappeared beneath their feet.

The four rolled helplessly down the chute to Jabba's rancor pit, and tumbled out onto the sand. Han landed face-first, coughing and spitting sand out of his mouth as he struggled to right himself. Leia looked around in bewilderment, scanning the cavern for an exit. Jubnuk and Fozec, meanwhile, knew exactly what was about to happen. Jubnuk panicked, squealing and attempting to scramble back up the chute. His efforts were futile, but he was so overwhelmed by stress that he could not bring himself to do anything else. Fozec, on the other hand, breathed deeply and forced himself to remain calm. He scanned the sand at his feet and quickly spotted Leia's blaster pistol. He leapt forward and grabbed it before any of the others saw it there, and braced himself for what was to come.

Leia helped Han to his feet, and looked around at the guards. She noticed Fozec had picked up her blaster pistol, and her eyes widened. At first, she was afraid he might turn the blaster against her, but then she realized he wasn't pointing it at her. In fact, he wasn't looking at her at all. He was focused intently on the huge metal door set into one of the cavern's walls.

"What's going on?" Han asked.

"I don't know," she replied, experiencing a sudden sensation of dread as she wondered what was beyond that metal door. Just as she felt the sinking feeling in her stomach, the door lurched open with a piercing squeak. It slowly retracted upward, revealing a dark, shadowy chamber beyond. As the door rose, Leia saw the movements of an enormous creature on the other side. At first, she was just able to make out rippling muscles covered with brown, leathery skin, and the movement of huge, yellow claws. Then, as the door continued to rise, she could see that the claws were connected to hands the size of a grown man. She saw light reflecting from two cold, beady eyes set into a bulbous, square head, and a mouth lined with crooked fangs that looked strong enough to disembowel a gundark. In an odd moment of clarity, she even noticed the glint of an earring in the beast's left ear. Leia's heart rate surged as her brain attempted to comprehend the monster towering over her. The ground shook as Jabba's rancor stepped into the cavern. The rancor stretched its arms out wide, opened its fanged maw, and roared at its captive prey.

The rancor first turned its attention to the squealing Gamorrean, who was still attempting to pull himself out of the cavern through the gated chute. The sound of Jubnuk's panicked squealing appeared to excite the rancor. It leaned forward, thick strands of saliva dripping from its mouth, and extended its clawed hand to ensnare its next meal. Fozec acted quickly to protect Jubnuk, taking aim with Leia's blaster and firing two rounds at the rancor's head in quick succession. Both shots struck the rancor on the side of its jaw, and it roared in pain. It turned its attention to Fozec, and swung its arm out in a vicious, ape-like backhand. Fozec had no time to react. The rancor's swift blow landed directly across his face and torso, flinging him off his feet. Fozec's body flew across the cavern like a rag doll. His head and back struck the rock wall with a wet _slap_, and he fell to the ground, motionless.

Leia did not see where her blaster pistol landed, but it no longer mattered—she knew now that it would be useless against the rancor.

"Come on," she said to Han, whose blind eyes were wide with fear. In a way, it was worse that Han could not see the rancor, because his imagination was conjuring something even more terrifying for him. Despite the circumstances, he reflected on past experience and controlled his fear, as he had done under fire countless times before. He allowed Leia to guide him to a rock overhang, low to the ground, where he could conceal himself.

"Hide here," she ordered.

"What about you?" he demanded. There was no way he was going to allow any harm to come to her, blind or not. Besides, he had always been the type that would rather die fighting than hiding. Before Leia could answer, another high-pitched squeal erupted from the edge of the cavern. Leia turned to look, and saw the rancor clutching Jubnuk in one of its massive claws. The rancor lifted Jubnuk to its maw, and chomped down on his torso. Leia heard a sickening _crunch_ as the rancor's fangs pierced Jubnuk's armor and snapped his ribs. She took several deep breaths as she scanned the room again, struggling to find a solution that would prevent her and Han from sharing the Gamorrean's fate. Her attention was drawn to a tiny, gleaming light coming from the far end of the rancor's den. She hadn't seen it before, but now that the gate was open, it was clear. _A door!_ she thought. She knew it would be a perfect escape for them...if they could reach it.

"Han," Leia said firmly, "Take my hand. Get ready to run."

Han listened to her, gripping her hand in his own and crawling out from beneath the overhang. Leia glanced back up at the rancor just in time to see the Gamorrean's hand disappear down its throat. Its beady eyes fixed on her as Han continued climbing out into the open. _Oh, no_, she thought. She turned back to Han.

"Come on!" she shouted.

She was too late. The rancor wrapped its claws around Leia's ankles and pulled. The motion effortlessly yanked her hand away from Han's.

"Leia!" he cried, startled as his grip was broken. He waved his forearm back and forth in a vain attempt to find her again. Leia tried to kick her legs, grunting with effort, but it was pointless—the rancor's fingers were strong enough to bend a durasteel beam. The rancor lifted Leia off the ground and pulled her towards its open mouth. Leia's life flashed before her eyes as her brain searched for a way to keep fighting.

As the rancor lifted her toward the ceiling, Leia could hear the sound of Jabba the Hutt laughing from above. _That piece of filth is laughing_, Leia thought angrily. _This is just a show for him_. Anger flowed through her as she sensed the enjoyment the repulsive gangster was feeling. Instead of frustrating her more, however, she found the anger had a calming effect. When she embraced it, she felt as though everything had slowed down, and she saw every detail of her surroundings with more clarity than ever. She then felt something she could not describe. She had only felt it once before—when Luke called to her as they were fleeing Cloud City. It was like a voice in her head, but it spoke with feelings and images rather than words. The image it gave her was of her thermal detonator.

Leia silently cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. As she dangled upside-down, being drawn inexorably closer to the rancor's open mouth, she brushed her cloak away from her face, and looked toward the ceiling so she could see her belt. She reached for the pouch that held the thermal detonator, keeping both hands over it so she would not accidentally drop it. She felt the satisfying weight of the tiny metal ball as gravity carried it out of its pouch and into her palm. She smelled the foul odor of the rancor's breath, and sensed that she only had fractions of a second to act. She looked over at the rancor. By now, its mouth filled her entire field of vision. In one smooth motion, she toggled the activation switch with her thumb and tossed the thermal detonator into the rancor's mouth.

The rancor wheezed and gargled reflexively as the tiny thermal detonator found its mark, lodging itself precisely in the beast's throat. The rancor had not expected its breathing to be interrupted, and dropped its prey out of surprise. Leia turned in the air as she fell, and landed in the sand with a thud. The moment she landed, she instinctively flattened herself out on her stomach, squeezed her eyes shut, and clapped her hands over her ears.

Even with her eyes shut tight, Leia saw the flash of the detonation. It appeared as red light as it permeated her eyelids, and she saw sparkles of every color as her pupils reacted to it. At the same time, she felt the tremendous blast wave pound the walls of the cavern. Immediately following the blast wave, something hot slapped her hard on the back. Leia moved her hands away from her ears, and rolled over to survey the cavern. The rocky walls were soaked with blood and entrails, from the floor to the ceiling, and the sand floor had turned to mud from the shower of fluids. The rancor's legs and pelvic girdle were crumpled in a bulging, fleshy heap in the middle of the cavern. The monster's ape-like arms had been flung to opposite edges of the room like tree branches in a windstorm. They were recognizable only from claw to elbow; what remained above the elbow stumps had the appearance of ground nerf meat. The rancor's head and torso had been blown to smithereens. The only thing Leia could see that had not been showered with rancor blood was a piece of gleaming metal, embedded in the rock wall about halfway between the floor and ceiling. She squinted at it for a moment before she realized what it was: the rancor's earring.

Leia stood and gave a heavy sigh of relief. She was thankful she hadn't broken or sprained anything, but she knew there was no time to waste. She turned to help Han to his feet, and found him reeling from the power of the blast wave.

"Han!" she called excitedly. He did not respond to the sound of her voice. She wondered why, then remembered she hadn't had a chance to warn him of the impending explosion. She knelt down sympathetically and helped him to his feet.

Han felt more disoriented than he had ever been in his life. He was already blind from hibernation sickness, and now his ears were ringing like a bomb had just gone off. _Great_, he thought. _Now I'm blind and deaf_. Even though he could hardly tell up from down, he managed to pull himself out from beneath the rock outcropping. He sat upright, but he knew there was no way he could stand on his own. He was relieved when he felt Leia's supportive touch at his side. She looped his arm over her shoulders, and guided him to what he could only hope was an escape route.

Leia assisted Han through the labyrinth of bloody remains that were scattered across the cavern, doing her best to concentrate on the access door and not the carnage. As they sloshed through the filth, her attention was momentarily drawn to a clump of flesh that stood apart from the rest due to its distinctive green hue. She glanced at it, and saw a distinctive Gamorrean face amidst the gore. Unable to bear the sight of Jubnuk's dead eyes staring back at her, she groaned with disgust and quickly looked away.

In moments, Leia and Han had reached the door at the far end of the rancor den. Leia toggled the control switch, and the door slid up into the ceiling. The doorway stood wide open, and in the room just beyond stood a man dressed as one of Jabba's guards. The man had discarded the mask of gondar tusks he was wearing earlier in the day, revealing his face. Leia wasn't used to seeing him with such a serious expression, as he usually effected a cocky smile, but there was no mistaking the countenance of Lando Calrissian.

"Let's go," Lando ordered, tossing Leia a spare blaster rifle he had pilfered from the armory. Leia caught the rifle and quickly surveyed the room. Two bodies were sprawled out on the floor to her right: Malakili, the rancor's keeper, and his Nikto assistant, Giran. She couldn't tell if they were unconscious or dead, and she had no desire to wait around to find out. While her attention was focused on the bodies, a pair of muscular arms covered in shaggy fur shot out towards her from her left. She stepped to one side, startled, and looked up to see Chewbacca carefully lifting Han off of her.

"Chewie!" Leia exclaimed. The Wookiee barked a greeting as he transferred Han's weight onto his arm.

"We're out of time," Lando growled. His gaze shifted to the sleeve and armpit of Han's white tunic, which was soaked with fresh rancor blood from resting across Leia's shoulders.

"Is he hurt?" Lando asked.

"He's fine," Leia replied. "You got a way out of here?"

"Follow me," Lando answered. They turned their attention to the door, and found themselves staring down the barrel of Boba Fett's carbine.

"Drop it!" Fett commanded, addressing all of the Rebels simultaneously. Lando's shoulders slumped as he realized they were trapped. He locked eyes with Leia, and saw that they shared the same dismayed expression. They let their rifles clatter to the floor, and turned their heads to look at Chewbacca. The Wookiee let out a feral growl, but did as the bounty hunter ordered.

"What now?" Han asked.

While Boba Fett held the four Rebels at blasterpoint, Jabba's Gamorrean guards shuffled into the room, brandishing vibro-axes. Their deep-set eyes were ablaze with fury. Jubnuk had occupied the lowest position in their pecking order, but they considered it a grave offense for any Gamorrean to be slain by an outsider. The largest of the boar-like guards, Captain Ortugg, stepped up to Leia until he was face-to-face with her, and rested the cheek of his vibro-axe on her shoulder. She stared directly into his eyes, determined not to show submission to one of Jabba's depraved servants. Ortugg bared his tusks, grunted, and sheathed his vibro-axe. Insulted by Leia's non-verbal challenge, Ortugg backhanded her on the side of her head. She stumbled back and was caught by another Gamorrean guard. Lando and Chewie protested loudly, but by this time they had already been placed in binders and were powerless to resist. Han joined in, the ringing in his ears having mostly subsided. Fett smirked beneath his helmet as the Rebels were led out of the room. _First the trick with the detonator, and now this?_ he thought. He had no sympathy for the Princess or her Rebellion, but he admired her tenacity.

The Gamorreans brought the prisoners directly to Jabba's main audience chamber, where the furious Hutt glared at them through the cloud of dust thrown up by the blast wave. His asymmetrical nostrils flared as he sucked in one deep breath after another. He had struggled to come up with a suitable punishment for the Rebels to share, and had even considered letting his entourage defile the female in front of the others, but decided against it. Only their deaths would be enough to satisfy his rage now. Besides, with his pet rancor destroyed, Jabba was in no mood to entertain a new slave girl. He raised his hand and summoned his translator droid.

"Oh, dear," C-3PO lamented. "His High Exaltedness, the great Jabba the Hutt, has decreed that you are to be terminated immediately."

"Good," Han replied sarcastically. "I hate long waits."

Salacious Crumb laughed at Han's dark sense of humor, but Jabba was too angry to acknowledge it. He gestured for C-3PO to continue.

"You will therefore be taken to the Dune Sea, and cast into the Pit of Carkoon, the nesting place of the all-powerful Sarlacc," said the droid.

"Doesn't sound so bad," Han remarked.

"In his belly," C-3PO added, "You will find a new definition of pain and suffering, as you are slowly digested over a thousand years."

Han's eyes widened. "On second thought, let's pass on that," he muttered.

"We have powerful friends," Leia warned, struggling to ignore the throbbing knot on her temple as she glared at Jabba. "You're going to regret this."

"I'm sure," the Hutt replied dismissively. He waved his hand, and his Gamorreans dragged the prisoners to the dungeon to await their executions.

Jabba looked around his chamber, peering through the dirt and dust that still clouded the air, and wondered how long it would take to clean the rancor blood off the ceiling. He sighed angrily as he realized there was no way he would get any more rest tonight. He was comforted only slightly by the knowledge that that Rebels wouldn't be able to rest, either. The condemned rarely got a good night's sleep on the eve of their execution. _Death is too good for them_, he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

By daybreak, almost every room in the palace had emptied. The only noise that could be heard was the faint clicking of mechanical spider legs echoing through the halls. Jabba and his entourage, including his Gamorrean guard detail, had congregated in the palace hangar in preparation for the departure of his sail barge, the _Khetanna_. The massive luxury yacht floated just a few meters above the hangar floor, its powerful repulsorlift engines rumbling as it took on passengers.

Jabba the Hutt traveled across the hangar on a wide, rectangular hoversled designed to support his immense weight. The hoversled was programmed to follow a preset path, allowing Jabba to watch his surroundings as he was carried aboard. Today, instead of admiring the _Khetanna_ as he usually did, Jabba glared across the hangar, scrutinizing the pair of cargo skiffs that would accompany him to the Pit of Carkoon. Han, Leia, Chewbacca, and Lando were being marched onto one of the skiffs, their hands securely fastened behind their backs. Boba Fett boarded the skiff behind them, watching their movements carefully with the muzzle of his carbine pointed at the ground. Jabba had specifically ordered the Mandalorian bounty hunter to accompany the prisoners, along with three Weequay bodyguards to support him. After the embarrassing revelation that his own palace guard had been infiltrated by a Rebel fugitive, Jabba was taking no chances. He needed someone reliable in charge, and he knew Boba Fett would not fail him. For added security, Jabba's second skiff was also loaded with a squad of armed guards, both Weequay and Klatooinian. Between them, they carried enough firepower to drive off a horde of Sand People. Jabba reclined on his hoversled, satisfied that the measures he had taken would be enough to deter any further disruptions.

The hoversled carried Jabba to the hangar's platform elevator, which rose up until it was flush with the observation deck on the starboard side of the _Khetanna_. The handrail along the edge of the deck retracted, and the hoversled quietly glided over to another custom-built platform elevator that descended to the passenger deck. Only after Jabba was situated comfortably in his banquet room, near the stern of the passenger deck, did he order the hangar bay doors to be opened. The interior of his sail barge was well-shaded, and he saw no reason to expose himself to Tatooine's harsh sunlight unnecessarily. The poorly-lubricated hangar doors announced their movement with the same ear-piercing screech given off by every other door in the palace. Jabba ignored the noise, and ordered the _Khetanna_ to depart immediately. He was eager to watch the Rebels suffer, and if his guests hadn't boarded by now, it would be their loss.

The _Khetanna_ accelerated slowly, its orange sails catching the light of the suns as it emerged from the hangar. Jabba was oblivious to the cloaked, hooded figure that clambered onto the fuselage of the _Khetanna_ as it passed through the hangar doors. His attention was focused on the prisoner skiff, as if it would no longer keep pace with his sail barge if he looked away. He ordered the first of what he expected to be many tall drinks, and settled in for the long journey across the Dune Sea.

As the hours passed, Jabba and his guests relaxed in his climate-controlled banquet room, drinking and enjoying the ambient music. Meanwhile, the Rebels on the prisoner skiff were miserable. Boba Fett had all four of them on their knees, facing the bow of the skiff, while he stood silently behind them, flanked by Jabba's Weequay guards. The metal deck grew hot as Tatooine's suns rose higher in the sky, burning their knees through their sweat-soaked clothing, but they knew it would do no good to complain. The Rebels quietly endured, searching the horizon for a sign that help was coming for them.

"I think my eyes are getting better," Han declared. "Instead of a big, dark blur, I see a big, light blur."

"There's nothing to see," Leia said, struggling to hide the worry in her voice. "Not yet. But Luke will be here in time."

"Luke?" Han said incredulously. "Luke's crazy! He can't even take care of himself, much less rescue anybody."

At this, Chewbacca protested with a series of barks.

"A Jedi Knight?" Han scoffed. "I'm out of it for a little while, and everybody gets delusions of grandeur."

"Chewie's right, old buddy," Lando said. "A lot's changed over the past year. You should see—"

"Yeah, I should see," Han snapped. "But thanks to you, I can't. Maybe you can get me all caught up on what I've missed while we're being digested."

"Han, listen," Lando pleaded, softening his voice, "After you were frozen, I tried to make it right. You've got to believe me...we tried to rescue you."

"Tried," Boba Fett interrupted, "And failed. Now cut the chatter. I'm not being paid to listen to you argue."

The Mandalorian watched the Rebels closely. Although he had them in a position of disadvantage, he was on edge. He knew if all four of them turned on him at once, it could end badly, even with the Weequay guards on his side. He wished Jabba would have let him put cloth bags over their heads, but the spiteful Hutt had refused, wanting to savor their fear as they were prodded into the Sarlacc pit one by one. The bounty hunter frowned imperceptibly beneath his helmet, blinking sweat out of his eyes. The desert heat made things difficult enough, and his employer's bloodlust was only compounding matters. He reminded himself that the job would be over soon, and he had at least been able to convince Jabba to cough up four extra cases of hard currency for his trouble.

Aboard the _Khetanna_, R2-D2 whistled contentedly as he shuttled back and forth from the kitchen, serving drinks to Jabba and his guests. On his shoulder joints, he balanced an ornate tray piled high with glasses, and the circular panel at the top of his domed head had flipped open to allow him to extend a soda gun over the tray. R2-D2 displayed the droid equivalent of cheer in the performace of his duties, confident that his true master would find him when the time was right. As the fearless little droid made his rounds, C-3PO accidentally shuffled into him, toppling the tray and scattering its contents across the floor.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry—" C-3PO began, cutting himself off as he recognized his counterpart. "Artoo! What are you doing here?"

R2-D2 replied with the simplest answer his programming would allow.

"Well, I can see you're serving drinks, but this place is dangerous!" C-3PO replied. "They're going to execute Mistress Leia—and if we're not careful, us, too!"

R2-D2 chirped and whistled with an upbeat tone, attempting to reassure the jittery protocol droid.

"Hm! I wish I had your confidence," C-3PO admitted.

R2-D2 maneuvered around C-3PO, leaving enough space to avoid any additional mishaps, and proceeded toward the bow of the _Khetanna_ to replace his serving equipment. As R2-D2 rolled toward the galley, his sensors alerted him to a man standing in the shadows, cloaked in black. The man stepped into R2-D2's path, but unlike C-3PO, he moved gracefully, displaying a keen awareness of his surroundings.

"Hey, Artoo," came the man's casual greeting, his voice barely above a whisper. R2-D2 emitted a stream of excited noises as he recognized the voice as Luke Skywalker's.

"Shh," Luke warned, kneeling down with an affectionate smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was relieved to have found the droid, but he didn't want R2-D2's cheerful outburst to reveal his presence. He also knew there was no cause to celebrate—not yet, anyway.

"Looks like I'm going to have to handle this the hard way," he muttered. He reached for the panel on R2-D2's head that concealed his lightsaber. R2-D2 discreetly ejected his master's weapon, and Luke concealed it beneath his cloak.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," Luke said softly. He rose to his feet and peered toward Jabba's banquet hall, mentally preparing himself for the fight that was sure to come.

"Artoo?" Luke called. The droid swiveled his head to look up at him. "Find Threepio. You two need to get off this death trap as soon as you can."

R2-D2 uttered a fearful moan, but did as he was told, rolling off to find his counterpart before it was too late.

After what felt like mere seconds to the condemned Rebels, the undulating dunes gave way to level ground, and they could see a giant cone-shaped depression in the sand in front of them. They stopped directly over the center of it, while the other skiff circled the perimeter, ensuring there was nothing in the area that would threaten the convoy. The _Khetanna_ slowed to a halt along the edge of the pit, its crew carefully positioning the sail barge so its shadow would not disrupt Jabba's view. The _Khetanna's_ repulsorlift engines sent distinct vibrations through the sand, provoking a subterranean monster that had learned to expect a meal from the noise. There was a loud, primal hiss from below as the Sarlacc awakened.

The helmsman of the prisoner skiff toggled a switch on his instrument panel, and a metal plank slid out from the fuselage, extending from the starboard side. Boba Fett stepped back to allow two of the Weequay guards to pass. The first Weequay prodded Leia to her feet with his vibro-axe, and the second removed her binders so she would not lose her balance before reaching the end of the plank. Leia cautiously looked over the starboard side of the skiff, and grimaced with disgust. At the very bottom of the pit was a gaping, circular maw, several meters across and marbled like fatty meat. It was ringed with hundreds of razor-sharp, inward-facing teeth the length of her forearm. Thick, fleshy tentacles emerged from the mouth to probe the air, waving at her almost invitingly. Each angry hiss from the mouth of the Sarlacc was accompanied by a wave of hot breath. When it reached Leia, she could smell a sour, acidic odor that reminded her of fresh vomit. She shuddered as she recalled C-3PO's description of the Sarlacc. _In his belly, you will find a new definition of pain and suffering...pain and suffering...pain and suffering..._ Leia dismissed the thought, refusing to live the last moments of her life in fear. _Come on, Luke_, she wondered. _Where are you?_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jabba the Hutt licked his lips excitedly as he prepared to begin the day's festivities. He barked an order to C-3PO, and the droid picked up a nearby microphone, stepping up to the nearest window to speak on behalf of his master.

"Victims of the almighty Sarlacc," C-3PO began, his voice amplified by the sail barge's announcement system, "His Excellency hopes that you will die honorably."

At that moment, R2-D2 bumped into C-3PO's leg, chirping excitedly in an attempt to draw the protocol droid's attention. C-3PO deliberately moved the microphone away from his body.

"Not now, Artoo! Not now!" he said, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. He brought the microphone close again to continue addressing his former companions.

"But should any of you wish to beg for mercy, the great Jabba the Hutt will now listen to your pleas."

Jabba narrowed his eyes and nodded mockingly. Bib Fortuna grinned, leering at the condemned Rebels with his fangs bared.

"Threepio!" Han shouted, stepping up with one foot in an attempt to rise to a standing position. Boba Fett reacted immediately, putting his hand on Han's shoulder to push him back down. "You tell that slimy piece of worm-ridden filth he'll get no such pleasure from us!"

Han's outburst was greeted only with a cacophony of laughter from Jabba and his onlookers. Han glanced in Chewie's direction.

"Right?" Han asked his partner. Chewie grunted nervously.

At that moment, Luke stepped out of the crowd, relaxing the Force techniques he had been using to remain unnoticed.

"Jabba!" Luke called. A hushed silence fell over the room, and Jabba's lackeys scurried toward the edges of the deck, leaving only empty space between the Jedi and the Hutt.

"At last!" C-3PO cried, while R2-D2 continued trying to get his attention. "Master Luke's come to rescue me!"

Jabba rotated his massive head toward Luke, growling with a combination of surprise and anger at this unwelcome development.

"You will release Captain Solo and his friends to me," Luke commanded. He could feel the Force augmenting his words, giving him a persuasive power that only the strongest will could resist. As it turned out, Jabba was impervious to the ancient Force trick.

"Your mind powers will not work on me, boy," Jabba taunted.

"Nevertheless, I'm taking your prisoners with me," Luke said firmly, lifting his hood away as he spoke. "You can either profit by this, or be destroyed. It's your choice, but I warn you not to test me. You won't have a chance to reconsider."

Jabba calculated the odds against Luke, and laughed confidently. "There will be no bargain, young Jedi," he sneered.

"In that case," Luke warned, casting his cloak aside, "You should tell your guests to leave the room."

The most skittish of the criminals in attendance made their way out of the banquet room without any further prompting. The others remained still, eager to see what would happen next. Two of Jabba's Gamorrean guards stepped around his hoversled and stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the open space between Luke and their master, planting their feet and brandishing their vibro-axes menacingly. Four more Gamorreans forced their way into the room from behind Luke, pushing Jabba's guests out of the way as they fanned out behind Luke. _Good_, Jabba thought. _Now he'll get to watch what happens next_. He toggled his microphone, broadcasting his voice across the Pit of Carkoon.

"Move her into position," he ordered. The Weequay obeyed, prodding Leia out onto the plank with his vibro-axe. She stepped to the end of the plank, glancing down nervously at the enormous fanged mouth of the Sarlacc. She was unable to hear the commotion in the banquet room, but something in the back of her mind told her that Luke was near. She scanned the horizon again with hope in her eyes, expecting a sign that he would arrive in time to keep his word.

"Jabba!" Luke shouted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "This is your last chance. Free them, or die!"

The Hutt's only reply was more of the same rumbling laughter.

"Put her in!" Jabba commanded.

Luke's lightsaber was in his hand before any of the crowd could react. The green blade flashed to life, illuminating the gloomy chamber and reflecting off the oily faces of the Gamorreans.

Leia's eyes widened with surprise as she saw the blade of Luke's lightsaber shining brightly through the slatted windows of the _Khetanna_. She instinctively burst into action, turning to face the Weequay holding the vibro-axe at her back. She grabbed the handle and pulled, sensing that the Weequay would give a powerful reflexive tug to avoid being drawn out over the Sarlacc. She turned out to be correct. The Weequay heaved backward with all his strength, pulling Leia to safety aboard the skiff. Aided by her momentum, she slammed into the Weequay, and they both fell to the deck.

When he saw Leia wrestling for control of the vibro-axe, Boba Fett raised his carbine and aimed for the nape of her neck. By the time he was taking the slack out of the trigger, however, it was too late. Lando and Chewbacca were already on their feet and rushing toward him. Both prisoners leaned forward at the waist and slammed their shoulders into him. Lando struck first, disturbing his sight picture but accomplishing little else. Chewbacca, on the other hand, crashed into him with every last bit of his terrific size and strength. Both Lando and Fett were blindsided by the Wookiee's attack, and collapsed on the deck like rag dolls.

Jabba saw the chaos unfolding on the skiff and roared with anger. Determined to bring the situation back under his control, he shouted for his Gamorrean guards to kill Luke. All six of them surged forward at once, shaking with adrenaline and eager to spill blood for their master. To Luke, the clarity brought on by the Force made the Gamorreans appear to be charging in slow motion. He spun on his feet, swinging his lightsaber into the guards behind him. He heard the blade hiss as it cut through flesh, but felt no resistance. The first Gamorrean to feel Luke's blade dropped to his knees, his torso split open from his hip to his opposite shoulder. Fat sizzled as it oozed out of the wound, and the entrails beneath were instantly scorched black. The next Gamorrean was in the middle of swinging his vibro-axe when he suddenly realized he wasn't holding it any more. He glanced down at his hands, and saw only blackened stumps. Before his brain could fully process the sight, there was a flash of green light, and he saw no more. The other Gamorreans saw their comrade's severed head land on the deck, and squealed with rage. They charged forward, pressing their attack.

Luke let the Force flow through him, just as Obi-Wan and Yoda had taught him, and he felt the stress of combat melt away. His hands manipulated his lightsaber flawlessly, guiding him to inflict fatal wounds without conscious thought. The green blade sliced effortlessly through horn, helmet, and tusk, and the third Gamorrean fell, his face blackened and unrecognizable. Luke sensed another Gamorrean behind him raising a vibro-axe overhead with both hands, and he thrust his blade into the creature's exposed armpit. The lightsaber pierced the Gamorrean's heart and both lungs, and then it was withdrawn. The last two Gamorreans lunged forward together, and Luke stepped into their attack, cutting through their vibro-axes and killing them before the fragments hit the deck. Luke breathed deeply, glaring defiantly at Jabba as he scanned the room for his next challenger.

Adrenaline coursed through Leia's veins as she fought for her life on the deck of the prisoner skiff. With a strength unlike any she had ever felt before, she twisted the vibro-axe out of the Weequay's grip and smashed it into his face as hard as she could. The Weequay went limp, knocked unconscious by the impact. Leia wasted no time, plucking the binder key from the Weequay's bandoleer so she could free her companions.

Meanwhile, Boba Fett propped himself up on one elbow, struggling to recover from the stunning blow Chewbacca had delivered. He felt Lando next to him, struggling to kick him as his hands were still restrained. Fett threw one leg over Lando's body, straddled him, and delivered two quick, incapacitating punches to his face. Before he could draw back his fist for a third, he felt a gut-wrenching kick from the Wookiee. Chewbacca's hands were still behind his back, but he had his legs free—and the decades he'd spent climbing _wroshyr_ trees on his homeworld of Kashyyyk had covered them with layers of dense muscle. The bounty hunter was flung away from Lando, and skidded awkwardly on his stomach. He rolled over, only to see Chewbacca raising his foot to crush him like an insect. Fett reacted instantly, deploying a fibercord whip from his right wrist gauntlet. The line cast itself perfectly, wrapping tightly around the Wookiee's legs. Chewbacca toppled to the deck, roaring with anger and struggling to break the filament that had ensnared him. Fett sat upright, tightened his abdominal muscles to stabilize his shooting platform, and aimed his carbine at the center of the Wookiee's snout. From this distance, he would not miss.

Leia sensed the threat to Chewbacca's life, and felt her strength renewed. She cocked the vibro-axe over her shoulder and swung with all her might. The blade of the axe smashed into the visor of Boba Fett's helmet, and his head snapped back as it absorbed the full brunt of the impact. He fired his carbine, but it was no longer aimed at Chewbacca. The blaster bolt struck one of the remaining Weequay guards in the center of his chest, killing him.

Seeing a brief window in which to act, Leia retrieved her key and freed Lando, Han, and Chewie from their binders. While Chewbacca unraveled the cord around his legs, Lando picked up the vibro-axe dropped by the second Weequay guard and swung it into the chest of the Nikto helmsman, sending him overboard. The third Weequay aboard the skiff cowered near the stern, trembling as he held up his weapon indecisively. Chewbacca grabbed the Weequay and threw him overboard, roaring triumphantly as he tumbled into the mouth of the Sarlacc. The Rebels felt relief wash over them as they realized they now had control of the skiff.

Jabba the Hutt frantically shouted orders to his remaining subjects, desperate for results after watching Luke cut through his Gamorreans so easily. Several in the crowd rushed forward, armed with a motley assortment of blasters, vibro-blades, and blunt instruments. One audacious fighter even broke the rim of his glass and charged Luke with the sharp edge. The Jedi moved gracefully, his feet carrying him between his enemies like water flowing around rocks. As Jabba struggled to see between the bodies of his men, he glimpsed the flash of Luke's green blade, scattering weapon fragments and severed limbs each time it whirred through the air. Jabba grabbed Bib Fortuna by the sleeve and shoved him into the fray. The opportunistic Twi'lek picked a blaster pistol up off the deck and pointed it at the back of Luke's head. Luke spun around as the Force warned him of the unseen threat, and chopped through Bib's wrist. Jabba's majordomo crumpled, screaming in pain and clutching at the stump where his clawed hand had been.

As the onslaught continued, the wily Salacious Crumb was consumed by the desire to win his master's approval. The Kowakian lizard-monkey jumped on Luke's shoulder and opened his beak, preparing to bite down on Luke's exposed neck. Luke winced as he felt the claws sink into his shoulder. He reached up with his support hand and grabbed the screeching animal by the scruff of the neck. With all his strength, Luke hurled the devious little beast through the open window of the sail barge. Salacious Crumb screamed as he landed and rolled down into the pit, clawing at the sand to no avail. The Sarlacc sensed the creature's frantic movements and reached up with one of its tentacles, catching Jabba's pet and pulling him in to be devoured.

Just as Lando took the helm, the second skiff closed in on him. As soon as they were within range, the mercenaries on the second skiff aimed their blasters and opened fire on the Rebels. Han, Leia, and Chewbacca ducked for cover, and Lando realized there was no way he could avoid the blaster fire for long. He quickly made the only decision that would even the odds. He pressed down hard on the accelerator, deliberately aiming his bow at the second skiff. There was a tremendous jolt as the skiffs collided, and Lando had to brace himself against the helm to keep from being hurdled over it, but it worked. Most of Jabba's men were unprepared for the sudden impact, and they tumbled into the pit. Those who did not fall directly into the Sarlacc's fanged mouth had only seconds to contemplate their fate, as the Sarlacc extended its tentacles and greedily pulled them the rest of the way in.

Boba Fett twitched and grunted as he felt the skiffs collide. He was still disoriented, but he had fought through worse. He saw that the Rebels were preoccupied with the second skiff, taking advantage of their newfound proximity to finish off Jabba's crew with their blasters and vibro-axes. He looked over to the _Khetanna_, and his heart sank. A bright green light—unmistakeably a lightsaber—was whirling to and fro in the banquet room, and from the anguished screams carrying across the pit, the fight was devastatingly one-sided. In that moment, Fett decided the skiff could wait. His overriding concern was to protect his employer. If Jabba was killed in the fighting, he wouldn't get paid—and if he didn't get paid, all this would be for nothing.

Fett activated his jet pack and leapt out over the Pit of Carkoon, adjusting his flight path so he could fire through the windows of the banquet room. He kept his movement slow in order to fire more accurately, silently cursing Leia for damaging his helmet's built-in targeting display. He had enough fuel for three minutes of flight time, and he knew that would be plenty. Fett aimed at the silhouette closest to the lightsaber and fired, but there were too many moving bodies in the room, and his shot struck a bystander in the back. Fett took aim again. He didn't care about collateral damage at this point, as long as Jabba lived long enough to load the _Slave I_ full of credits.

As Chewbacca finished off the last of Jabba's mercenaries on the second skiff, he caught sight of Boba Fett flying over the pit and firing at Luke. Chewie roared a warning to Han, who quickly turned to look. His vision wasn't back to normal yet, but he recognized the jet pack instantly.

"Boba Fett," Han growled. He took aim with his blaster pistol, focusing on the area between the jet pack's directional thrusters. Lando stood just behind Han's shoulder, holding a vibro-axe stained with Weequay blood.

"I thought you were blind," Lando said.

"I can see a lot better," Han quipped. He positioned the dark blur of his muzzle over the center of the jet pack, trusting that his sights were where he pictured them.

"Just a little higher," Lando coached. Han squeezed the trigger, and his shot struck Boba Fett's jet pack, disabling one of the jets completely. Fett cried out in surprise as he spun out of control. Before he could take any corrective action, the remaining jet carried him in a wide, downward spiral and drove him headfirst into the sand. His mind screamed at his body to move, but he had no time. The Sarlacc wrapped a tentacle around his legs and pulled him into its mouth, swallowing him whole.

Chewbacca gave another triumphant roar upon seeing Boba Fett disappear into the mouth of the Sarlacc. The Sarlacc's only response was a loud belching sound, accompanied by another cloud of rancid breath. Chewbacca and the other Rebels checked their surroundings, and saw that both skiffs were clear. All of Jabba's forces had been slain, or were slowly digesting in the bowels of the Sarlacc. It appeared the fighting was over. Leia looked over at the _Khetanna_, and realized it had fallen ominously quiet. She heard no screaming, no blaster fire—no more commotion of any kind. She exchanged worried looks with her companions, and Lando immediately took the helm and brought their skiff alongside the observation deck of the _Khetanna._

Leia and Chewbacca hopped from the skiff onto the _Khetanna_ with their blasters ready. They listened carefully for any signs of an enemy ambush, but none came. Instead, they heard a quiet, mechanical shuffling sound as C-3PO and R2-D2 emerged from the shadows. Leia sighed with relief, while Chewbacca bellowed a query at them.

"No, Chewbacca, I have not seen Master Luke," C-3PO answered. "I'm afraid we were separated, and I couldn't possibly—"

C-3PO was interrupted by a metallic screeching noise from the deck beneath his feet. The Rebels gripped their blasters in a low-ready position, preparing for the worst as a vast, rectangular cargo hatch slid open before their eyes. Jabba's platform elevator ascended out of the gloom, noisily rising up until it was flush with the deck. Standing on the elevator was Luke, his deactivated lightsaber at his side and a grim, determined expression on his face. On the hoversled behind him, immobilized by his own weight, was Jabba the Hutt.

Even in defeat, Jabba glared angrily at Luke and his companions, sucking deep breaths through his nostrils as he contemplated his revenge. Luke did not need the Force to sense Jabba's thoughts. From body language alone, he already knew the Hutt would never rest until they were all dead.

Luke quietly walked over to the railing on the port side of the observation deck, and cut it away with his lightsaber. The pieces tumbled over the edge and struck the sand below with a _thud_. The Sarlacc sensed the vibrations through the ground, and extended its tentacles hungrily.

"Jabba," Luke began as he looked down into the pit, "Earlier, you spoke of dying with honor." He turned away from the Sarlacc, and looked Jabba in the eyes before continuing. "Now is your chance to stand by your words."

He crossed over to the starboard side of the deck, and cut away the railing there in the same fashion, leaving a sheer drop on both sides of the sail barge. With the Force, he lifted one of the jagged shards of the railing, rotating it in front of Jabba's face so he could see the pointed tip at its end. Luke cast it over the starboard side with a flick of his wrist. The durasteel beam embedded itself in the sand, with the razor-sharp edge pointed up at the sky like a sword. Satisfied, Luke stepped directly in front of Jabba, and held out his hand. In it, he held a small remote—the control for Jabba's hoversled. He held out the remote, but Jabba refused to take it.

"You can take the honorable path," Luke offered, nodding his head to the quick impalement that awaited Jabba over the starboard side. "Or, I can send you where you deserve to go," he said, nodding over his shoulder to the port side. As if on cue, the Sarlacc let out an ominous hiss. "I'll leave it to you to decide."

For a moment, no one spoke. Jabba clenched his fists tightly, refusing to budge. Han, Leia, and Chewbacca looked on without saying a word. Of all the Rebels, only Lando showed a hint of anxiety.

"Luke," Lando said, his brow furrowed with concern, "If we do this, are we any different from him?"

"Sure we are," Han interjected, glaring at Jabba and sticking out his chin defiantly. "We're not going to make him beg."

Lando lowered his gaze, and said no more. Luke sensed that Jabba would never die of his own volition, and dropped the remote. Jabba's eyes widened, and his grotesque, toad-like face displayed a look of horror as the tiny device clattered to the deck. It seemed that the Hutt finally understood the seriousness of Luke's ultimatum.

"You should have bargained, Jabba," Luke chided. "That's the last mistake you'll ever make."

He help up his hand, fingertips extended, and felt the power of the Force envelop Jabba's hoversled. The heavy metal slab began to move, drifting slowly toward the port side of the observation deck. Jabba roared in protest, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"Oh, I can't bear to watch," C-3PO murmured, turning away and shielding his photoreceptors with his hand. The others stood silently, watching as the hoversled carried Jabba inexorably toward his doom. Jabba screamed and cursed in Huttese the entire way, his plump arms and tail quivering as he struggled to move, but his fate was sealed. Luke made eye contact with the crime lord for the last time as the hoversled teetered on the edge of the deck.

"Farewell, exalted one," Luke said. He dropped his hand to his side, and the hoversled tipped its vile passenger over the edge. Jabba roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he fell. He flailed his arms uselessly as he plummeted into the mouth of the Sarlacc, his last scream echoing across the Dune Sea until it was cut short by the impact. The Sarlacc reacted with surprise, its exposed tentacles convulsing and coiling over upon themselves as if it had suffered an electric shock. It had been some time since the Sarlacc had its entire mouth obstructed—after all, banthas knew to steer their calves far away from the Pit of Carkoon. The ravenous creature quickly adapted to the situation, however, and all of its tentacles wrapped around Jabba's obese body simultaneously, cocooning it with hungry flesh. The Sarlacc gurgled and hissed as its rows of sharp teeth pulsated inward, helping it to swallow. It took several minutes for Jabba's entire body to disappear down the Sarlacc's gullet.

Once Jabba was finally gone, Luke turned to Leia, who had moved closer to his side to watch the Hutt's demise.

"Come on," he beckoned, holding out his hand. She took it and stepped onto the skiff without looking back. Luke reached out with the Force again, using his powers to control the heavy blaster cannon fixed to the observation deck. The unmanned turret rotated as though it had a mind of its own, and aimed itself at the deck of the _Khetanna_. Once Luke had aimed the blaster cannon right where he wanted it, he used the Force to press the trigger. The energy blast from the cannon tore into the bowels of the sail barge, and a ball of flame erupted from below. Luke sensed that a single shot would suffice, and hopped aboard the skiff.

"Let's go," he called out to Lando.

"We're on our way," Lando replied, a satisfied grin on his face. He opened up the throttle, pushing the skiff to its top speed. The Rebels turned to watch as the chain reaction set off by the deck cannon engulfed the _Khetanna_. Han smiled to himself. He was finally starting to see normally again, and he couldn't have asked for a more welcome sight.

The Rebels abandoned the skiff when they reached the rendezvous point where the _Millennium Falcon_ and Luke's X-Wing were hidden. Luke and R2-D2 prepared his X-wing for takeoff, while C-3PO and the remaining Rebels boarded the _Falcon_. By the time news of Jabba the Hutt's death broke across Tatooine, both ships were tearing out of the planet's atmosphere. With Tatooine hundreds of miles behind them, the ships veered apart.

"I'll meet you back at the fleet," Luke said into his comm unit.

"Hurry," Leia replied. "The Alliance should be assembled by now."

"I will," Luke reassured her.

"Hey, Luke, thanks," Han called. "Thanks for coming after me. Now I owe you one."

Luke smiled as he pointed the nose of his X-Wing in the direction of the Sluis Sector, thousands of light-years away. R2-D2 identified their new course, and sent a text query to a display on Luke's instrument panel.

"That's right, Artoo, we're going to the Dagobah system," Luke confirmed. R2-D2 immediately made the necessary calculations for their imminent jump to hyperspace.

"I have a promise to keep," Luke went on, "To an old friend."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Darth Vader stood in the control room for the second Death Star's superlaser, gazing out at an endless field of stars through a thick, panoramic window. Far below his feet was the forest moon of Endor, a lush, blue and green world to which the Death Star was anchored in a geostationary orbit. He ignored the picturesque moon, focusing instead on the stars beyond. Somewhere out there, his son was hiding from him. He thought of calling out to Luke again, of using the Force to make the boy hear his voice, but decided against it. Luke would surface soon enough, and when he did, Vader would enlist his help to bring a sudden and violent end to the reign of Emperor Palpatine. In the meantime, however, there were more pressing matters that required his attention.

Vader could hear the hushed voices of the Death Star gunners behind him as they made last-minute adjustments to the massive superlaser. The crew worked at a feverish pace, as had everyone aboard the battle station since his unannounced arrival. Moff Jerjerrod stood silently behind Vader, nervously surveying his men as they hurried from one instrument panel to the next. Vader could sense the fear rolling off of Jerjerrod, and reminded himself that the man had good reason to be afraid. By now, all hands aboard the Death Star had heard the news. The Emperor had departed Coruscant, and was en route to personally inspect his crowning achievement.

In the dwindling moments before the Emperor's arrival, Vader admired the fleet of Star Destroyers arrayed just a few kilometers beyond the Death Star's impenetrable deflector shield. Their white finish reflected the light of Endor's sun, making them stand out against the infinite black horizon, and their wedge-shaped hulls gave them the appearance of a phalanx of spearheads, pointing outward to defend the incomplete Death Star against any incursion. In the center of the formation was a slate-gray dreadnought that dwarfed the surrounding Star Destroyers, casting its shadow over them like a tree over a field of grass. With its immense size, dagger-like silhouette, and the blood-red glow of its sublight engines, it was immediately recognizable as Vader's personal command ship, the _Executor_. He assured himself that his flagship was in good hands, and the weapon he kept hidden there stood no chance of discovery. Admiral Piett understood perfectly that his life would be forfeit if he or any of his men dared to invade the Dark Lord's privacy.

As Vader watched, he saw hundreds of glittering pinpoints of light erupting from beneath each of the Star Destroyers. From a distance, the effect was not unlike a cloud of shrapnel, but he knew better. The sparkling effect was caused by sunlight reflecting off the wings of TIE fighters, which had begun deploying from their Star Destroyers' ventral hangars in full attack squadrons. The deployment of so many fighters meant only one thing. The command ships had timed the Emperor's route, and his shuttle would be exiting hyperspace at any moment. Vader turned to Moff Jerjerrod, who was still watching the Death Star gunners with uncertainty in his eyes.

"The Emperor approaches," Vader warned. "Is the primary weapon operational?"

Moff Jerjerrod glanced over at the chief Death Star gunner, making no attempt to hide the fear in his eyes. The officer studied the control panel in front of him carefully before looking up at Jerjerrod and giving a curt nod.

Moff Jerjerrod turned to answer. "Yes, my Lord," he quivered.

"Good," Vader said calmly. "It would be most unpleasant if you had to deliver bad news to him."

Vader stepped away from the window and began walking out of the room. Jerjerrod remained still, unable to decide whether he should follow or remain behind to supervise his men.

"The time has come," Vader reminded him, "Unless you wish to keep the Emperor waiting."

A startled expression crossed Jerjerrod's face, but he quickly suppressed it as he rushed to Vader's side. To Jerjerrod, the days had begun to blur together as he hurried from one sector of the Death Star to another, working without sleep in order to avoid Vader's wrath. It was difficult enough for most officers to adjust to the lack of discernible nights and days aboard a vessel where artificial lighting was constant, but Jerjerrod had stopped paying attention to the time. Now, he felt as if he was floating, watching his own actions from afar. The presence of Darth Vader, practically a death threat by itself, coupled with the litany of projects with impossible deadlines, had reduced him to a ragged, exhausted shell. As he stepped out of the superlaser control room, he stared straight ahead, following Vader obediently without any thought of where they were going. For all he knew, Vader could have been leading him into a trash compactor, but even then, he would have been too tired and defeated to protest. He stepped into a turbolift with Vader without saying a word, and stared blankly at the inside of the door as it closed around them.

Vader ignored the quiet hum of the turbolift, and allowed himself to reflect on what he had accomplished since his arrival from Cotellier. In addition to assuming a more direct motivational role over Moff Jerjerrod, he had also taken the opportunity to revise the dozens of administrative orders that governed any emergency situation involving the Death Star. At face value, the changes seemed beneficial to the Emperor, streamlining the chain of command beneath him, and allowing him to override all communications throughout the Death Star and the surrounding fleet. No one had any reason to question Vader's actions, nor view them as suspicious, considering his reputation. Even so, Vader was careful to ensure that his work appeared to be in the best interest of emergency operations. He had to be sure his penultimate maneuvers would stand up to the Emperor's scrutiny, in the unlikely event he took the time to review them. If they did not, Vader's plans for himself, his son, and the entire galaxy would be undone.

As the turbolift descended toward the Death Star's equatorial trench, Vader sensed Jerjerrod's fear growing stronger than ever. He was pleased to feel that fear, as he knew it would draw the Emperor's attention, and help to mask his own mutinous thoughts. As long as he kept his conscious mind clear, Palpatine would suspect nothing.

Only seconds later, the turbolift slowed to a stop, and the door slid open automatically. Vader moved immediately, lengthening his stride as he made his way to the hangar that would receive the Emperor's shuttle. Without looking back, he could sense Jerjerrod struggling to keep up. As they navigated the seemingly endless maze of corridors, Vader felt a tremor in the Force unlike any other, a nightmarish feeling that crept up his spine and triggered a fight-or-flight response in his brain. He knew it signaled the presence of his master, and quickened his pace. His mechanical breathing remained steady, while Jerjerrod's breaths grew shorter and more rapid. Vader cautioned himself one last time to keep his mind clear, and to allow the fearful thoughts of his subordinate to keep the Emperor occupied.

Vader and Jerjerrod stepped into the Emperor's enormous hangar, and saw an impressive assembly of officers, stormtroopers, and technicians lined up in parade formations. There were so many men in attendance, they nearly filled the room from end to end. Upon seeing Vader and Jerjerrod, they dressed up their lines and stood at attention, a perfect display of Imperial discipline and precision. The only substantial gap between the formations was a wide aisle in the center of the hangar, allowing Vader a clear line of sight to the shuttle's landing pad. As he proceeded down the aisle, his attention was drawn to the stormtroopers, who held their E-11 blaster rifles at port arms. Vader knew the combined firepower of all those stormtroopers would be enough to conquer a small moon—had they been truly armed. Every blaster the stormtroopers carried had been meticulously unloaded and stripped of its focusing coils, and the commanding officers had inspected each of their men to ensure no ammunition or live weapons were brought into the hangar. The Emperor trusted no one but Vader and his own Royal Guards to be armed in his presence.

As Vader continued down the aisle, he noticed a pair of Viper probe droids hovering behind the parade formations. The probe droids were the same type used to scour isolated planets for Rebel activity, but here, they used their advanced sensors to scan each occupant of the room. They were programmed to view every individual as a threat, regardless of the fact that the only men admitted to the hangar for this occasion had spotless disciplinary records and exemplary performance reviews. The probe droids monitored vital signs, body language, and eye movement, searching carefully for any hint of a threat to the Emperor's safety. Vader displayed no reaction, even beneath his mask. He knew that as long as the Force was with him, no droid would ever be able to detect his true intentions.

Vader and Jerjerrod stood silently and waited for the Emperor, watching squadron after squadron of TIE fighters pass by outside the hangar. Just minutes later, a _Lambda_-class shuttle approached, passing through the magnetic field that protected against the vacuum of space and docking just meters in front of where Vader and Jerjerrod stood. Vader remained still as the shuttle's boarding ramp lowered to the hangar floor. The Emperor's Royal Guards exited first, their crimson robes standing out brilliantly against the backdrop of white stormtrooper armor and gray officers' uniforms. They lined up on both sides of Vader and Jerjerrod, force pikes braced against their right shoulders, their footsteps completely inaudible. Vader counted six of them in all. As the Royal Guards flanked him, he knelt down on one knee and lowered his gaze to the floor. The dreadful tremor in the Force was stronger than ever now. He could hear soft footsteps, and the faint tap of a cane, as Emperor Palpatine disembarked.

At first glance, Palpatine did not appear to be the embodiment of tyranny that so many feared. His body was hunched over, and he used a gnarled, black cane when he walked. What was visible of his face beneath his black hood was pale and wrinkled, the skin of an old man that looked as if it might bruise at the slightest touch. But Vader knew better than to trust his eyes. Beneath Palpatine's frail exterior was a shrewd, devious intellect that could bend the Force to its will more easily than any other being in the galaxy.

"Rise, my friend," Palpatine said, his voice crackling as he spoke. He raised his left hand in a welcoming gesture, beckoning Vader to his feet. Vader knew his master meant nothing by calling him "friend." In the waning days of the Republic, Palpatine had deceived almost the entire government with kind words and placating gestures. _Even the Jedi_, Vader thought. _Even me_. He knew where that line of thinking would lead, and stopped himself before it could betray him. He looked down at his master cautiously as they crossed the hangar, but Palpatine said nothing. Vader broke the silence, deliberately limiting himself to a matter of routine that would not arouse suspicion.

"The Death Star will be completed on schedule," Vader promised, studying what little he could see of Palpatine's face to gauge his reaction.

"You have done well, Lord Vader," Palpatine replied. "And now, I sense you wish to continue your search for young Skywalker."

Vader glanced at his master, startled. _How did he know?_ In that moment, he was thankful that his breathing was controlled by machines. Had his body been intact, his biological reaction of surprise might have betrayed him on the spot. He reminded himself that Palpatine had discussed this very subject with him before, and that nothing overtly sinister could be gleaned from his admission of the truth.

"Yes, my master," he acknowledged.

"Patience, my friend," Palpatine said. Vader could feel relief wash over him, and he was quite content to let his master think that the feeling came from his reassuring words. Palpatine continued, "In time, he will seek you out...and when he does, you must bring him before me. He has grown strong. Only together can we turn him to the dark side of the Force."

"As you wish," Vader replied.

"Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen," Palpatine gloated, revealing his yellow, decayed teeth as he let out a hoarse laugh. Vader continued to stare straight ahead, saying nothing. He knew if that were true, he would already be dead.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Luke brought his X-wing out of hyperspace over Dagobah, and used his sublight engines to make his approach through the murky atmosphere. This time, he anticipated that his instruments would fail, and he did not allow panic to overtake him. Although he still did not understand how the untamed planet could overload his X-wing's scanning equipment, he kept his mind at peace, and trusted the Force to guide him to safety. Luke's faith was well-placed. Even without being able to see his destination, he managed to land his starfighter in the same patch of swamp from which he had departed over a year ago.

He powered down his X-wing and removed his helmet, looking off in the direction of Yoda's hut as the cockpit opened. He quickly spotted the minute structure, despite the natural camouflage afforded it by its dried-mud construction and the surrounding vine-tangled trees. A soft, orange light emanated from within, and a faint wisp of smoke curled out of the chimney. Luke smirked as he wondered if Yoda had predicted his arrival and prepared food for both of them. He climbed down from his X-wing and sniffed the air. He could smell Yoda's cooking, all right...but something felt out of place. Luke reached out with the Force, and a terrible thought occurred to him: Yoda was dying.

Luke sprinted to the hut without bothering to change out of his blaze orange flight suit. The muddy ground sucked at the soles of his boots, and he instinctively tapped into the Force to keep from falling. He pushed forward as fast as he could, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and hoping that his premonition was wrong. Luke reached the burrow-like entrance to the hut, and crouched down so he could crawl inside. His heart racing, he clambered into the room where Yoda had slept since the fall of the Republic. As he had hoped, there was Yoda, standing next to the fireplace, taking weak, shallow breaths and leaning on his gimer stick for balance. The ancient, green-skinned Jedi Master turned his head to see Luke, who slumped down into a seated position with his back against the wall.

"Master Yoda," Luke began, his voice fraught with worry.

"That face you make," Yoda said faintly. "Look I so old, to young eyes?"

Luke realized that he was making no effort to hide his concerned expression. "No!" he lied. "Of course not."

"I do," Yoda said, turning away from the crackling fireplace and coughing weakly. "Yes, I do." He looked down at his own wrinkled hands, and frowned. "Sick have I become," he continued. "Old and weak."

Luke could not think of anything to say in response. Yoda looked up at him, and managed a playful grin. "When 900 years old you reach, look as good, you will not! Hmm!"

Yoda grunted with effort as he shuffled across the room. He attempted to disguise the noise as teasing laughter, but was quickly reduced to another cough. At last, he reached his bed, nestled in the corner by Luke's side, and pulled back his blanket.

"Soon will I rest," Yoda sighed as he sat down on his bed. "Yes...forever sleep. Earned it, I have."

"Master Yoda, you can't die!" Luke protested, knowing that it would do no good.

"Strong am I with the Force," Yoda acknowledged, "but not that strong." His child-sized arm trembled as he held his gimer stick out in Luke's direction. Luke accepted it carefully, handling it as he would a priceless work of art, and gingerly leaned it against the opposite wall.

"Twilight is upon me," Yoda mused, "And soon, night must fall." He struggled to pull his blanket over himself, and Luke leaned forward to help cover his master.

"That is the way of things," Yoda went on, "The way of the Force." His eyes slowly closed as his voice trailed off.

"But I need your help!" Luke pleaded. "I've come back to complete the training!"

"Complete, your training would be already," Yoda admonished, "had you stayed. But unwilling to make the sacrifice, you were. And absolute, your failure was."

"Master, I know I failed," Luke said sincerely. "My mistake cost me so much—but it taught me more than I ever expected." He clenched his right hand, and felt the servomotors rotate beneath its artificial skin. "I know I have what it takes now," he argued. "I'm no longer afraid of failure!"

"Learned the same lesson here, you could have...in another six months. But you had no patience." The diminutive Jedi master coughed again, and glanced at Luke's mechanical hand. "Cost you a limb, it did. A small price to pay...for one so reckless usually pays with his life."

"I wanted to," Luke hissed, allowing a hint of anger to creep into his voice. "In that moment, I would have rather died than gone with him. And I jumped. How could I not?" In his most serious tone, he repeated the most terrible, life-altering fact he had ever learned. "I am the son of Darth Vader."

Yoda's ears perked up, and he clenched his blanket tightly in his closed fists. He inhaled deeply, his mouth twisting into an ugly frown as he fought to suppress his cough.

"The son of Anakin Skywalker, you are," Yoda growled. "A man long dead. A great and powerful Jedi, he was. But he chose the dark side. Took a new master, he did...and a new name, he was given."

Luke was humbled by the severity of Yoda's tone. "Darth Vader," he murmured.

"Confront him again, you must," Yoda ordered. "And his Emperor. Confront them...and destroy them both."

"Master," Luke said skeptically. "I've grown much stronger. I've studied the journals Obi-Wan left behind. I've finished my new lightsaber! But even now, I'm still not powerful enough to do that! How can I defeat both of them alone?"

"Alone?" Yoda replied incredulously. He attempted a faint laugh as his eyelids drooped again, but it sent him into yet another coughing fit. "You cannot. Impossible, it would be, to defeat them alone."

"Then who will fight with me?" Luke asked desperately. "Obi-Wan already told me he can't interfere. There are no other Jedi, are there? He told me Vader helped the Emperor destroy them all."

"The truth, it was," Yoda answered. "When gone am I...the last of the Jedi will you be."

Luke's jaw dropped as he wondered how he could possibly preserve the legacy of the Jedi by himself. Yoda sensed Luke's thoughts, and responded with a smile that somehow appeared sad. He shifted slowly beneath his blanket, and his eyelids drooped even further.

"Luke," Yoda whispered, "Do not underestimate the powers of the Emperor...or suffer your father's fate, you will. Train another, you must...and together, you will destroy the Emperor...and his apprentice."

Luke wondered what it would be like to train an apprentice of his own, and how he would even begin to search for a suitable candidate. When he looked down at Yoda for guidance, he saw that his old master's eyes were already closed.

"Master!" Luke called. "Who is it? Who will I train?"

Yoda summoned all his remaining energy to draw one more full breath, and gave Luke his final riddle. "There is...another...Sky...wal...ker."

In that moment, the swamp around Yoda's hut went quiet, and the only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fireplace. Luke's heart sank as he saw that his master's tiny rib cage was no longer rising and falling. Just then, Yoda's body disappeared, his physical form fading into the ethereal. The Jedi master's sackcloth robes crumpled without a body to prop them up, and a distant thunderclap echoed through the trees. Luke stared in awe as he sensed that both of his mentors were now one with the Force. He found himself staring into the fireplace, losing himself in the dancing flames as he pondered the future. What would he do, now that he was the last Jedi left alive in the galaxy? He was still determined to defeat the Emperor, but he was convinced Yoda was right—he couldn't do it alone. Luke clambered out of Yoda's hut and sighed as he trudged back to his X-wing.

As Luke reached his starfighter, he turned back to look at the quaint little mud hut one last time. The windows of the hut fell dark as the fire within burned itself out. Luke realized that with Yoda gone, he no longer felt like he was dreaming. It was almost as if a magic spell had been broken, and now Dagobah was just another unremarkable primordial bog, with no more reason for him to stay.

R2-D2 beeped at Luke to request his assistance, and he knelt down to examine the droid's work. The stubborn little astromech was attempting to re-wire some of the scanning equipment that had short-circuited when they entered Dagobah's atmosphere. Luke appreciated R2-D2's effort, but he knew immediately that he was too distracted to help. He thought of the honor—and the burden—that had just fallen on his shoulders, and was overwhelmed.

"I can't do it, Artoo," Luke confessed. He stood upright and gazed out at the fog that swirled across the fetid swamp. "I can't go on alone."

"Yoda will always be with you," a distant voice echoed.

"Obi-Wan," Luke gasped, turning to look in the direction of the voice. He could see the glowing specter of a man emerging from a secluded, misty grove just a few meters away. Luke stepped toward the shimmering apparition, ducking to pass beneath the laser cannons of his X-wing. He felt relieved that Obi-Wan had appeared to him again, especially since he had received no reply the last time he called out to him. When Luke remembered that fateful day, however, his sensation of relief disappeared. Now that the memory of Vader's revelation had occurred to him, he could not hold back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Luke demanded. "You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father!"

For a moment, Obi-Wan said nothing. He sat down on a nearby outcropping and stared at the ground with embarrassment and shame in his eyes.

"Luke, your father was once a decent man," he began softly. "When I first knew him, he was kind and generous. He was a good friend, and I was amazed how strongly the Force was with him. I took it upon myself to train him as a Jedi." Obi-Wan took a deep breath to control his emotions before continuing. "I thought that I could instruct him just as well as Yoda," he lamented. "I was wrong."

Luke stepped closer and sat next to Obi-Wan, anxious to hear more, but his voice had trailed off. He looked away, gazing into the fog with that look of shame etched into his face, and Luke could see that memories of the past were weighing heavily on his mind.

"What happened?" Luke asked. Obi-Wan smirked, and his eyebrows perked up, as though he was amused by the challenge of condensing all his thoughts into a single answer.

"The Clone Wars happened," Obi-Wan said dryly. "Your father believed he could save the galaxy, and he showed such potential that I very nearly believed him. But as the war dragged on, the galaxy changed...and so did he. In the end, he was seduced by the dark side of the Force. He fell in league with the Emperor, and turned against the Jedi. From that moment, he ceased to be Anakin Skywalker, and the good man who was your father was destroyed. He became a different man entirely, Luke. He became Darth Vader."

Luke could see that even now, after so much time had passed, it was difficult for Obi-Wan to tell the truth about his past. He wondered what exactly had transpired between his father and Obi-Wan that would leave such deep emotional wounds, but quickly decided it would be better left unsaid. Instead, he asked the one question that bothered him more than anything.

"Why couldn't you tell me before?" he asked.

"After what happened to your father, you were our only hope," Obi-Wan replied. "Both Yoda and I agreed that you were not ready for the burden—that you should be fully trained as a Jedi before we explained the truth. I told you the only thing I could, Luke. I was terrified of losing you to the Emperor, the way I lost him."

Luke thought of Obi-Wan's strange expression when he first told him of his desire to learn the ways of the Force. He thought of how distant Obi-Wan had been, once he had begun his training on Dagobah. It all started to make sense to him. He sat quietly, focusing his thoughts and listening to the calls of the surrounding wildlife. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, his inflection more sympathetic.

"Obi-Wan," Luke began cautiously. "When I fought with Vader, he held back. He didn't want to kill me. He wanted me to join him. He wants the same thing we want—to destroy the Emperor."

"Luke, he may want that now," Obi-Wan countered, "But you must understand, he wants it for a very different reason. He wants to replace the Emperor, to take the throne for himself. In order to save the galaxy, they both must die...and their Empire must die with them."

"What if I could turn him back to the light side?" Luke asked. "I know there is still good in him. That's why he didn't kill me when he had the chance."

"He's more machine now than man," Obi-Wan replied dismissively, "Twisted and evil."

"But together, we could defeat the Emperor—he said it himself! Then, when it's just the two of us, I could persuade him to come back with me."

Obi-Wan remained unmoved. "I once thought as you do," he said. "Luke, you don't know the power of the dark side. Your father chose his path when he joined the Emperor...and he will not turn from it."

"Then who else is there?" Luke asked, fighting to suppress his frustration. "Yoda spoke of another Skywalker. Who is it?"

After a brief pause, Obi-Wan answered. "The other he spoke of is your twin sister," he revealed.

"But I have no sister!" Luke protested.

"To protect you both from the Emperor, you were hidden from your father when you were born," Obi-Wan explained. "The Emperor knew, as I did, if Anakin were to have any offspring, they would be a threat to him. That is the reason why your sister remained safely anonymous."

A memory burst into the forefront of Luke's mind, suddenly washing away his confusion. It was the memory of his defeat at Cloud City, when he had clung to a flimsy antenna with the last of his strength, and called out for anyone to help him before he lost his grip and fell to his death. He had reached out with the Force, projecting his thoughts to anyone who could sense them, and there was only one who had answered.

"Leia!" he gasped. "Leia is my sister!"

"Your insight serves you well," Obi-Wan confirmed. "You must confide in her, Luke. Train her as Yoda would have, and tell her everything I could not bear to tell you."

Luke nodded respectfully to his old master, and stood. He felt somewhat dazed, as he struggled to absorb this flurry of new information. He faced his X-Wing, and used the Force to lift R2-D2 into the air, placing him gently into the external socket that would connect him to the starfighter. The effort, although small, reminded him of the omnipresent nature of the Force, and helped to calm his racing mind. As he stepped toward the ladder that would bring him to the cockpit, Obi-Wan called out to him again.

"Luke," he warned, "Be mindful of the dark side of the Force. It will always be there, even without the Emperor to spread its influence. Watch over your sister—you must not allow her to suffer your father's fate."

"I won't," Luke promised. He knew now what he had to do. He had kept his word to Yoda, and he intended to keep his word to his friends as well. He would make his way along the Rimma Trade Route to Sullust, and rendezvous with the Rebel fleet. Once he arrived, he would do his best to honor his masters, and explain the truth to his sister. _Boy, is she in for a surprise_, he thought.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Luke sat quietly in the cockpit of his X-Wing as the swirling vortex of hyperspace flashed around him. He kept his eyes closed, to prevent the endless spiral of bright blue light from straining them, but he was unable to rest. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he would say to Leia when he reached his destination. _My sister_, he thought, and let out a deep sigh. There was still a small part of him that tried to reject the idea, even though he was certain it was true. Perhaps it was because, when they first met, he had found himself attracted to her. Of course, he hadn't known any better at the time, but now he knew he would never think of her that way again. _Hell_, Luke thought, _there are enough jokes about Tatooine moisture farmers already, aren't there?_ Besides, even if they hadn't been related, it was obvious that she had already found true love, with Han. Luke was happy for them, and relieved that the awkward tension that once existed between Han and himself had long since evaporated.

Now, as he approached the rendezvous point in the Sullust system, Luke contemplated how he could re-introduce himself to Leia as her twin brother, and how he could broach the even more difficult truth of their father's identity. He knew the conversation would disturb her greatly, no matter how gentle his words, and he wanted to ensure he did not drive her away from himself in the process. As he dismissed one awkward idea after another, he found himself sympathizing even more with Obi-Wan. He could no longer blame his old mentor for being deceptive; to him, the consequences of revealing the truth seemed just as dire as the consequences of keeping it hidden.

Before Luke could mentally rehearse what he planned to say, he heard R2-D2 beeping at him through his instrument panel. He opened his eyes, and saw that his faithful astromech droid had just sent him a text update. Luke read the monitor, which told him they were within seconds of arriving at the rendezvous point.

"Thanks, Artoo," he said through his comm unit. He brought his X-Wing out of hyperspace with perfect timing, and the blue vortex around him disappeared. In its place was a beautiful sight: a field of glowing starship engines, so bright that they washed out the stars beyond. Hundreds of star cruisers, transport ships, and support vessels had gathered here, over the volcanic planet of Sullust, to mount an all-out attack on the Empire. Luke smiled, and his confidence soared as he took in the might of the Rebellion spread out before him. Even after the disastrous setback at Hoth, the Rebels had miraculously managed to regroup, and in the past year, their ranks had swelled with even more disaffected citizens from dozens of star systems. Now, the fleet was at the height of its strength, commanding firepower not seen since the days of the Old Republic, and the Rebels could say with confidence what they could never have said before. They could now go toe-to-toe with the Imperial Navy, and win.

As Luke guided his X-Wing toward the fleet, he was reminded of a memory from his early childhood on Tatooine. He'd been running errands at the marketplace with his Uncle Owen, and had slipped away to wander the aisles by himself. He remembered perusing the merchandise halfheartedly, wishing his uncle hadn't dragged him away from playing his model T-16 skyhoppers. Just before his boredom turned to frustration, however, he had noticed a vendor with a holographic display at the front of their booth. The sight of the hologram had set his heart racing. It was an enormous, detailed picture of a Mon Calamari coral reef, laid out beautifully in three dimensions. When Luke saw it, he immediately pictured himself cruising along the Mon Calamari seabed in his own private submersible, watching the marine life swarm around him. He remembered trying to count the number of different species in the hologram, but it was impossible. There were too many shapes, too many colors, moving around each other in so many different ways. Luke's smile grew even wider, and he shook his head gently to focus his mind on the present. _Where Yoda would want me to be_, Luke remembered fondly. He wondered if his master had been watching over him somehow, even on that day at the marketplace. _This one, a long time have I watched_, Yoda's words echoed. _All his life has he looked away...to the future...to the horizon...never his mind on where he was! Hmm! What he was doing!_ Luke shrugged to himself, and decided it wouldn't do any harm to indulge his child-like sense of wonder for just a few more seconds. A part of him sensed that his destiny, and perhaps even his death, would soon be upon him. In a way, it made the memory of his childhood feel bittersweet, like the last meal of a condemned inmate. He briefly wondered what had triggered the memory in the first place, then realized the answer was right in front of him. Most of the ships that surrounded his X-Wing were of Mon Calamari design, and it was no coincidence that their silhouettes vaguely resembled aquatic life. The other vessels, hailing from a multitude of star systems oppressed by the Empire, drifted between the hulking Mon Calamari cruisers like schools of fish. At the center of the formation was the naval equivalent of a whale—a bulbous flagship that dwarfed the other vessels the way the _Executor_ dwarfed other Star Destroyers. That ship carried a name that was both symbolic and literal to much of its crew: the _Home One_.

Thanks to R2-D2, Luke had no trouble reaching a secure comm channel and broadcasting his intentions to the _Home One_'s hangar crew. When they recognized his name and his starfighter, both legendary throughout the Alliance, the crew practically ushered him into the main hangar. As he climbed out of the cockpit, he could sense that they were holding back from fawning over him. He also did his best to hide his true feelings—specifically, his aversion to being treated like a celebrity—and politely made his way past them. He knew the way to the ship's main briefing room, and even without using the Force, he could sense that a large audience had gathered there. The dull roar of conversation echoed through the gleaming white-paneled corridors ahead of him, and he could see a few stragglers marching in that direction. In order to avoid disrupting the briefing, and to give him a few extra moments to think about his responsibility to Leia, he tapped into the Force to mask his own presence. He felt the ancient stealth technique wash over him like a cool breeze, and walked confidently to the room where his friends were waiting.

Luke reached the briefing room, which was built like a great, circular amphitheatre, and paused in the doorway behind the top row of seats. The room was full of men, women, and droids, including C-3PO, whose gold-colored body panels brilliantly reflected the glare of the overhead lights. In addition to humans and droids, Luke could see at least one Sullustan in the crowd, and what appeared to be a trio of Dressellians. The pilots in the room were already dressed in their blaze orange flight suits, and an impressive-looking team of Rebel commandos had donned ponchos with a forest camouflage pattern. Luke saw that the command staff wore traditional uniforms that predated the Empire itself: khaki vests over pale blue, long-sleeved collared shirts. Some even carried blaster pistols in old-fashioned leather flap holsters. In fact..._No, it couldn't be_, Luke thought. _Lando?_ But sure enough, there he was, standing in the front row beside Han, Leia, and Chewbacca. He wore a pale blue cape that closely matched the uniforms of the other commanders. _They made him a general!_ Luke realized. He remained where he stood, pleased that no one had noticed him, and eager to find out what would transpire next. R2-D2 quietly rolled up behind him, but stopped there and drew no attention to himself.

Luke heard a soft beeping noise echo through the briefing room, and the overhead lights went dim. A light-skinned woman with short, red hair stepped toward the holoprojector in the center of the room. She wore formal white robes, of a style once worn by senators in the days before Emperor Palpatine's dissolution of the legislature. She carried herself with an air of dignity, but from the look in her eyes, it was clear she had witnessed many of the Empire's atrocities firsthand. Her name was Mon Mothma, and her uncompromising passion for liberty made her a perfect candidate for a leader of the Rebel Alliance.

"The Emperor has made a critical error, and the time for our attack has come," she began. Her voice was soft and pleasant, but there was no questioning her confident tone. As she spoke, the holoprojector in front of her displayed an enormous blue and green sphere, representing the forest moon of Endor, along with a model of the Death Star, represented by a tiny red sphere in its orbit.

"The data brought to us by the Bothan spies pinpoint the exact location of the Emperor's new battle station. We also know that the weapons systems of this Death Star are not yet operational. With the Imperial fleet spread throughout the galaxy in a vain effort to engage us, it is relatively unprotected. But most important of all, we've learned that the Emperor himself is personally overseeing the final stages of the construction of this Death Star." Her voice went quiet, almost down to a whisper, as she concluded, "Many Bothans died to bring us this information." She lowered her gaze, silently reflecting on those who had made the ultimate sacrifice.

After a moment of silence had passed, Mon Mothma's confident tone returned. "Admiral Ackbar, please," she introduced. The famous Mon Calamari leader stepped forward, and wasted no time explaining the hologram that slowly rotated in the center of the room.

"You can see here the Death Star orbiting the forest moon of Endor," he croaked. His voice was commanding, but it was obvious the dry air irritated his vocal cords. "Although the weapons systems on this Death Star are not yet operational, the Death Star does have a strong defense mechanism." He took a deep breath before continuing, making a soft wheezing sound as he struggled to cope outside of the aquatic environment he was used to. "It is protected by an energy shield, which is generated from the nearby forest moon of Endor."

As Admiral Ackbar gestured toward the hologram with his webbed fingers, a field of translucent yellow light emerged from the simulated surface of Endor, forming a three-dimensional teardrop shape as it expanded. The yellow light enveloped the Death Star completely, leaving no openings to be exploited.

"The shield must be deactivated if any attack is to be attempted," Admiral Ackbar warned. As he said this, the holographic projection of Endor disappeared, and the red orb representing the Death Star expanded dramatically to take its place. "Once the shield is down, our cruisers will create a perimeter while the fighters fly into the superstructure and attempt to knock out the main reactor."

A simulated shower of sparks erupted from the center of the hologram, and the entire Death Star was transformed into a gleaming ball of light. The hologram disappeared, and the overhead lights brightened to illuminate the room once more.

"General Calrissian has volunteered to lead the fighter attack," Ackbar declared, gesturing toward Lando.

"Good luck," Han called out. Lando looked over at his one-time friend, unsure of how to reply. "You're gonna need it," Han added dryly.

Ackbar paid no attention to the remark. Instead, he gestured toward a blond-haired, bearded man to his left. "General Madine," Ackbar announced. Madine stepped foward, carrying a ceremonial baton in his hands.

"We have stolen a small Imperial shuttle," Madine revealed. "Disguised as a cargo ship and using a secret Imperial code, a strike team will land on the moon and deactivate the shield generator."

"Sounds dangerous!" C-3PO exclaimed.

"Wonder who they found to pull that off," Leia muttered, leaning over so only Han would hear. Han opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, General Madine cut him off.

"General Solo," Madine inquired, "Is your strike team assembled?"

Han replied as confidently as he could, ignoring Leia's surprised expression. "Uh, my team's ready...I don't have a command crew for the shuttle."

Chewbacca immediately barked at Han, and raised one great, furry arm into the air in protest.

"It's gonna be rough, pal—I didn't want to speak for you," Han reassured him. Chewbacca grunted and barked again, affirming his commitment.

"That's one," Han said, grinning proudly.

"General!" Leia called, almost playfully. "Count me in."

Luke sensed that there would be no better time to reveal himself. He unbound the Force technique that had kept him hidden from the occupants of the room, and stepped forward out of the doorway. "I'm with you, too!" he said loudly. He stepped down to the front row, where Leia immediately embraced him with a friendly hug. As she broke her grip and looked up at his face, she saw his distracted expression.

"What is it?" she asked.

Luke knew it would do no good to have their inevitable conversation in the middle of the crowded briefing room. "Ask me again sometime," he said, smiling reassuringly. As Han and Chewbacca stepped forward to greet him, he heard R2-D2 utter a series of excited beeps that he easily translated as an expression of glee.

"Exciting is hardly the word I would choose," C-3PO said to his counterpart.

As the Rebels made their way out of the briefing room, Luke noticed Han scanning the room, and sensed that something was troubling him. Leia seemed to recognize the same thing, and started to reach out to him, but Luke paused her with a gesture of his hand. Luke could tell that Han had something he wanted to do before leaving for battle, and knew it would be best to leave him to it.

Han didn't notice Lando slipping out of the room as soon as the briefing was over, and he had a feeling that was deliberate on Lando's part. Deep down, he knew why, and he had no intention of letting Lando get away with it. _Enough is enough_, he thought. _I'll be damned if one of us gets killed before I make things right_. Leaving Chewbacca, Luke, and Leia behind, he pushed his way down the corridor to the hangar, squeezing past the other Rebel fighters and offering quick apologies as he went. The Rebels were confident and upbeat, but there was a lot of stress in the air, and he preferred to save the fighting for the Empire. When he finally stepped out onto the open floor of the hangar, he spotted Lando's distinctive blue cape walking briskly away from him.

"Hey, Lando!" he shouted. Lando stopped in his tracks, and his shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. At last, Lando turned to face his old friend.

"Hey yourself, General," Lando replied, affecting a casual attitude and flashing his familiar grin. Han didn't smile back. He looked Lando straight in the eye, and spoke with a firm, committed voice.

"I want you to take the _Falcon_," he said.

"Han, old buddy..." Lando gasped. He knew what Han meant by the gesture, but as much as he wanted to make amends and rebuild their friendship, he wasn't about to let him go overboard. "After everything that's happened between us..."

"Don't try to talk me out of it," Han interrupted, sternly pointing a finger at Lando. "You need all the help you can get—she's the fastest ship in the fleet," he grumbled. "And I don't trust anybody else to fly her."

"I thought you didn't trust me at all," Lando pointed out.

"We've never trusted each other, Lando. When has that ever stopped us from being friends?" Han joked. Lando resisted the urge to smile, and nodded in agreement.

"We still need to set the record straight on a couple of things," Lando muttered.

Han nodded grimly. "We'll hash it out when the fighting is over," he promised.

"Over a game of cards?" Lando challenged, raising his eyebrow and leaning forward slightly.

"Easy," Han warned. "The carbon-freeze didn't damage my memory, you know. You're not winning her back—forget it."

"Look, I know what she means to you," Lando said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'll take good care of her. She won't get a scratch. All right?"

"Right," Han nodded, and turned to board the stolen _Lambda_-class shuttle behind him. Before he could bring himself to walk up the shuttle ramp, he turned and called out to Lando again. "I've got your promise, now," he confirmed, "Not a scratch?"

Lando laughed and waved his friend away. "Would you get going, you pirate?" he teased. Han realized it was too late to worry about the _Falcon_ now, considering that he was about to leap headfirst into one of the most dangerous missions of his life. He gave Lando a friendly salute, and Lando returned the gesture.

"Good luck," Lando offered.

"You, too," Han said grimly. As he turned and walked up the ramp with the last few members of his strike team, he wondered what kind of odds C-3PO would give them. He dismissed the thought when he made it all the way into the shuttle. Sitting in front of him were the camouflage-draped members of his team, an elite squad of the most skilled and ruthless commandos in the known galaxy. As they strapped themselves into the passenger bucket seats, Han glanced at each of them, and saw pure determination on each of their faces. Even with their demolitions and heavy weapons stowed, Han knew he wouldn't want to go toe-to-toe with any of them. Luckily for him, he wasn't dressed in stormtrooper armor. He made his way to the cockpit, where Luke, Leia, Chewbacca, and the droids were already settled in. He saw that Luke was manipulating the overhead switchboard, adjusting the flight settings in preparation for takeoff.

"You got her warmed?" Han asked.

"Yeah, she's coming up," Luke replied.

As Han took his seat in the co-pilot's chair, Chewbacca grumbled at him with an annoyed tone.

"Yeah, well I don't think the Empire had Wookiees in mind when they designed her, Chewie," Han pointed out. He looked out the cockpit window at the _Falcon_, and frowned. Leia stepped in behind him, and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said comfortingly. "You awake?"

"Yeah, I just got a funny feeling," Han replied, nodding toward the _Falcon_. "Like I'm not going to see her again."

Chewbacca moaned forebodingly, but Leia simply smiled.

"Come on, General," she suggested, tapping him on the shoulder again. "Let's move."

"Right," Han agreed. "Chewie! Let's see what this piece of junk can do. Ready, everybody?"

"All set," Luke replied, buckling his harness. R2-D2 beeped cheerily from the corner of the cabin.

"Here we go again," C-3PO translated.

With that, Chewbacca guided the shuttle out of the hangar, lowered the wings, and pointed the nose of the shuttle in the direction of the Endor system.

"All right," Han warned, "Hang on!"

He engaged the hyperdrive, and the stars seemed to stretch out, transforming from tiny, glittering points of light to endless rays that enveloped the entire shuttle. Within seconds, the shuttle had accelerated past the speed of light, hurtling into the unknown and leaving the fleet far behind.


End file.
